Cross of Lorraine OUTDATED
by Osanagokorochi
Summary: Discontinued--please see new version!
1. Merced

Author's Note: This story was originally written with the intention of making my dissatisfaction known with the way the anime series ended, with the premature deaths of Chrno and Rosette, neither of them able to live out their lives as they had wished, or—as I'm sure as we would have all liked—together. As you can probably see from the description of this particular fan fiction, it has evolved into much more since then.

Also, readers please note that this is a work of FICTION. I did quite a bit of research in order to compose this tale, but a lot of information I give here is, for the most part, fabricated. Please do not sue, hurt, kill or otherwise maim me for my fictionisms.

I'd also like to make it known before I begin that I am a self-proclaimed agnostic. If I commit any blunder in the religious aspects of my story, please do not hesitate to tell me!

Now please enjoy (and review, if it pleases you!) the first chapter of The Cross of Lorraine!

—Koru-chan

Edited 07/28/06--I was too lazy to fix it before, but at the reminder of a reviewer, it seems I have misspelled Remington's first name. He will now be referred to as 'Ewan' as opposed to 'Euan.'

* * *

Chapter One: The Merced

It was Sunday, and all three friends had the day off. It was a perfect day to take a walk by the seaside, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. On one side was a girl with smiling, Asian eyes. She stretched her arms way up into the air, careful not to let her sleeves slide off her wrists, and shook her long, silky black hair out in the wind coming off the sea and laughed.

"What's got you so happy, Steph?" The tanned man in the middle asked her, a contagious grin on his thin lips.

Stephanie just giggled and slid her arm into his and leaned up against his shoulder.

"It's been so long since we got out and did something together!" she sighed. "It's just feels so good to be outside!"

The girl on the other side laughed at this, her short, wavy brown hair brushing around her face.

"It's only been a week!" she said, pushing her hair back behind her ear.

"But it seems like _so_ much longer!" Stephanie drawled. Then she jumped up in front of them and held out her hand, pointing at both of them so they had to stop. "I've got an idea! Let's get ice cream! My treat!"

"Your treat?" the man asked. "You dare make a mockery of the only male in this little faction? If it's going to be anyone's treat it's going to be mine!"

Stephanie giggled and linked her arm in his once again.

"Well, Nathan, since you insist!" she said with mock admiration.

The brown-haired girl laughed at this. Things had always ended up that way since Nathan had joined them. Stephanie would insist on doing something nice, and Nathan would take it on himself, always calling it 'his duty, as man of the house.' They all thought of it as a nice joke, but she knew it should have been _her_ treating them, although both Stephanie and Nathan protested every time she offered, saying that she had given them enough already.

She was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts when the sight of a man caught her eye. His blonde hair shouldn't have stood out among the other Caucasian people along the street, but he was sitting, slumped over against the wall of a building, covered in an old, greasy rag of a blanket and apparently sleeping.

"Ellen!"

She looked up as Nathan and Stephanie came back from the ice cream vendor. Two were in Stephanie's hand.

"Which do you want, Ellen?" she asked. "Chocolate or strawberry? You'd better say chocolate, because I'm in the mood for pink!"

"Well, that's not much of a choice, is it?" Ellen laughed, taking the chocolate one.

She took a bite and reveled in the cool sweetness in her mouth, compared to the heat of the day around them. She reminded herself that the heat wouldn't last long now—it was nearing mid-autumn. The nights were getting colder. This reminded her of the man she had seen by the building and looked over. He hadn't moved.

"What are you looking at, Ellen?" Nathan asked, and he and Stephanie followed her gaze to where the man sat. "Oh."

They watched as all of the people who passed him paid him little or no mind. He didn't even have a cup or hat to beg for change with. They had seen this before; people who simply gave up on life. They didn't last long on the streets in that condition. It's what had almost happened to Nathan, before Ellen and Stephanie had saved him.

It was almost a year ago that Nathan had been in that same way. Ellen and Stephanie had come over to him and simply offered him a place to sleep, some food and water, and a chance to get back on his feet. At first, he had been very suspicious—who wouldn't be, in that situation? But he had taken their offer, and after a while found that they were offering him genuine kindness without asking to be given anything in return. Once his strength had returned, he asked them why it was that they did what they did. They told him that they called themselves the Merced, and their mission was to spread the word of God by showing people His mercy and how He freely gave second chances. Hearing this, Nathan was inspired, and asked if he could join them, having nothing else he could really do with his life. Having grown fond of their new roommate, they agreed. He had been around ever since.

Both Stephanie and Ellen were sure that he saw himself in the blonde man there, as he did in every homeless person they saved. And since he had come, it was getting easier for the girls to help their victims, as Nathan knew exactly where their minds were at, having been there himself.

Nathan walked wordlessly back over to the vendor and bought a fourth ice cream, and then went over to the man. Stephanie and Ellen followed at a distance, knowing from experience that it was Nathan's job to break the ice, and he did this better on his own than with company. He had told them that crowds just made the homeless feel defensive—they were exposed to crowds every day. What they needed was contact with a single, caring soul. He had taught Ellen and Stephanie how to approach these people with this mentality, but he was still better at it than they were.

Ellen and Stephanie watched as he squatted down next to the blonde man and offered him the cup.

"My friends and I are going to sit on the docks and finish our ice cream. You're more than welcome to join us."

The blonde man lifted his head and revealed tired, blue eyes. His questioning gaze was met with Nathan's smiling face. He hesitated.

"Go on," Nathan prompted. "It's not like I poisoned it or anything!"

The blonde man's expression suddenly took on a skeptic look, and Nathan laughed at the implication. He put the treat at the man's side and stood up.

"Hope to see you over there!" Nathan said, then waved and went back to Ellen and Stephanie. The three of them headed for the docks.

"Are you sure that went okay?" Stephanie asked Nathan. "He didn't look too eager."

"Well," Nathan said, not looking at her. "It's like you guys say; if they can't accept the smallest kindnesses, then they won't be able to accept your offers, right?"

Stephanie and Ellen exchanged glances. This was their theory, and it had held sound since they'd developed it. Nathan was right; they would just have to wait and see.

* * *

The day was beginning to fade into the afternoon when the three had finished their ice cream and Stephanie was beginning to get restless. 

"We've been sitting here for hours," she whined. "He must not be coming. Let's just go."

Ellen sighed. She hated it when there wasn't anything she could do about the suffering of others. But there were some who just couldn't see the light ahead of them, or didn't have the strength to reach out and take the helping hand offered to them. She stood up.

"Let's go home."

Leaving the docks, all three glanced over at where the blonde man still sat, the ice cream at his side, now a melted puddle. His head was bowed, hair shading his face.

Ellen stopped.

"Ellen?" Stephanie asked, then looked over at the man and sighed. She went to Ellen's side and put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Come on, Ellen, there isn't anything we can do for him."

But, wordlessly, Ellen pulled away from Stephanie and began walking over to the man.

"Ellen?" Nathan called after her, but she didn't stop.

Ellen came to a halt before the man. This time he didn't look up. She knelt down before him and tilted her head to look up under his hair at his face. His eyes were closed, and dark patches circled heavily under his eyes.

_So much pain,_ she thought. She reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He didn't move. _So that's why you didn't come._

"Nathan!" she called back to her friend. "Come help me with him, would you? He's unconscious!"

Nathan and Stephanie exchanged surprised looks, then went over to help. Ellen propped herself under one of his arms, and Nathan got the other. Slowly, carefully, the three carried him back to their apartment.

* * *

The blonde man awoke to the feeling of morning sun on his face and the smell of coffee in the air. He opened his eyes slowly, expecting the dream to fade as he came closer to consciousness, but neither sensation died away as he had expected. Instead, they became stronger. Soon, he could hear the sound of something sizzling, and a faint musical humming. 

His eyes opened wider and he took in his surroundings. He was in a small, simple room with a desk and chair by an open window. There was a dresser across from the desk, and also a sink and mirror. He lay in a single bed, under a warm blanket and clean sheets. He rose up and took another good look at the room around him.

_Where am I?_

The humming was getting louder. Someone was singing now. It was a familiar song, but he couldn't place the lyrics. He got out from under the bedding and stepped onto the hardwood floor. He found himself dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Beside his feet were a pair of slippers. Without thinking, he put them on and got up, following the smell of breakfast out the door of the room, down a long hall to an open doorway and into a dining room, with a kitchen in the corner. Standing there, back to him, was the source of the noise. He recognized the brown-haired girl as one of the two who had been with the young man who had approached him. What had happened after that? He couldn't remember.

Then, still singing out loud, Ellen turned quickly around to reach for something on the kitchen counter top and caught sight of the man. She was so startled that her song was cut off mid-note and she dropped the cloth she had been swinging around.

"Ahh!"

She lost her balance and nearly fell over, but caught herself and, when she realized who was standing in the doorway, blushed furiously.

"Oh," she stuttered. "Y-You're up. Good! Um…"

She glanced over at the bacon that was sizzling in the frying pan, then back at the man.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

The man couldn't seem to think of what to say, so Ellen came over to him and took his arm, guiding him into a seat at the table.

"Just sit here for a moment, okay?"

Then she rushed back to the stove and pushed some bacon off onto a plate. When the toast popped, she reached over, balancing on one leg to grab the two pieces and threw them onto the plate with the bacon, then brought the plate over and set it before the blonde man.

"The eggs will be ready in a little bit," she told him with a smile.

He had been watching her this whole time, but only now, with her face much closer, could he see the thin but dark circles under her eyes.

He only got a glance of her face, though, before she turned away and opened the refrigerator, grabbing out a couple eggs. She bustled around the kitchen, grabbing what she would need.

"How would you like your eggs?" she asked him, not looking back. When she got no answer, she turned and asked, "Is scrambled okay?"

It took a second to register, but the blonde man nodded.

"Good," she smiled, turning back to the kitchen. "'Cause I'm not good at anything else!"

"Then why did you offer?"

This was the first she had heard him speak, and it startled her out of her search for a whisk and bowl. She turned back around and looked at him in surprise, then smiled.

"Well, you're my guest," she said. "I thought it would be polite to offer."

"Good morning—!" Stephanie began as she walked into the room, stretching. She stopped when she saw who was in the kitchen.

"Ellen, what are you doing still up? You should be in bed!"

Ellen blushed and turned back to the stove. "I was making breakfast," she mumbled.

It was then that Stephanie noticed the other person in the room.

"Oh, hello," she said. "How are you feeling this morning?"

The blonde man just looked at her.

She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"Not much of a talker, are we?" she said as she sat down opposite him at the table. She looked at the plate in front of him, still steaming.

"If you don't eat that quick, it'll get cold," she told him. "Shame, after all the trouble Ellen went through to make it for you."

"Oh, no," Ellen protested. "It wasn't that much trouble…"

"Of course it was," Stephanie told her. "You've been up since yesterday! You must be exhausted!"

The blonde man frowned at this.

"It's okay," Ellen said. "I get my sleep during the day."

"Which is what you should be doing now," Stephanie reminded her, getting up and taking the pan and spatula from her friend. "You go to bed, and I'll finish up here, okay?"

There wasn't much Ellen could do, so she didn't protest.

"Okay," she said. "I'll see you later."

"G'night, Ellen," Stephanie said pleasantly.

"You mean good morning," Ellen said, indicating the morning light in the window above the kitchen sink. Stephanie laughed.

"Just go to your room!" she scolded her. Ellen laughed in response and left.

"That girl," Stephanie laughed. "She never knows when to quit. She has to be _told_."

She finished up with the eggs and shoveled some onto the man's plate, then put the rest onto a second one, which she brought to the table for herself.

"Could you pass the salt?" she asked the man.

He hesitated, still a little overwhelmed by this girl's straightforwardness, in comparison with the other's timidity, but he picked up the little white shaker and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, then shook some salt into her hand. When she felt she had enough, she scraped it off in little sprinkles onto her eggs. She stopped when she noticed that the man was staring at this process, unmoving.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Never see someone use salt before?"

"Not with that method," he replied. "No."

She didn't bother concealing her victorious smile at getting him to talk. They usually commented on her unusual table manners. She finished scraping the salt off and dusted her hands, then picked up her fork.

"So, you got a name?" she asked, putting some egg in her mouth and staring at him unblinkingly.

"Fa—"

He stopped himself. That name was long behind him, and yet it still rolled off his tongue so easily. He wondered when that habit would be broken; it had lasted much longer than all of his others.

"Ewan," he said, looking down at his plate and picking up a piece of toast. Just as he was about to put it in his mouth, a hand was thrust out under his nose. He looked up into the girl's smiling face.

"I'm Stephanie!" she said. "But you can call me Steph!"

He took her hand, expecting her to shake it with the same vigor her demeanor implied, but he got a sort, firm shake instead.

"Nice to meet you!" she said, then went back to her breakfast.

There was a brief silence before Ewan said, "And that other girl's name was Ellen?"

Stephanie looked up in surprise.

_An observant one. That's refreshing._

"Eleanor, actually," she said. "But we call her Ellen."

Ewan nodded. "And the other one?"

Stephanie's smile widened.

"That's my puppy!"

Ewan's eyebrow shot up, his face donning a disgruntled look. Stephanie laughed.

"His name's Nathan," she added happily. "And he's my puppy. He's at work right now."

"Ah," Ewansaid, then bit into his toast, looking out the kitchen window with a thoughtful look on his face.

For a little while, there was silence, until Stephanie had finished her eggs, then took her plate to the kitchen and rinsed it off, blocking Ewan's view of the window and cutting into his thoughts. He watched her for a little while, then decided to voice the question that had been bothering him ever since he had woken up in that room. No—since Nathan had first approached him.

"Why?"

Stephanie turned off the water at the sink and turned around.

"What?"

"Why?" Ewan repeated. "Why are you doing this?"

Stephanie held still for a moment, as if considering how to answer him, then picked up a towel and began drying her plate and utensils. It wasn't until she had safely stored the plate in its proper cupboard that she turned back to Ewan, still drying her hands with the towel.

"Well," she said. "I've got to hand it to you; you're a lot quicker than most to jump to that question."

She sat down and put the towel on the table, then looked Ewan straight in the eye.

"It's a long story—you really want to know?"

Ewan looked away thoughtfully for a moment, then turned back to Stephanie.

"I've got nowhere to go," he said tonelessly.

Stephanie shrugged as if seeing the sense in this, then settled herself onto her chair and cleared her throat.

"It all began with Ellen," she told him. "Her parents died about four years ago, leaving her with a substantial amount of cash. She was their only daughter, so she got the lot of it. She was a good girl, though, and didn't really want to live an overly-luxurious life, as the money would have allowed, so she just kept it in a savings account for a while, untouched. She had a nice job anyway; working late hours at the hospital got her a pretty penny. She thought she wouldn't ever need the money, and considered giving it to the church."

"Ellen is religious?" Ewan interrupted.

"Kind of," Stephanie said, making a face. "I guess you could say that we all are, in a sense. But none of us follow the usual regime; going to church on Sundays and Holidays, praying regularly; we don't really do any of that."

"So what do you do?" Ewan prompted.

Stephanie grinned at him, as if this is exactly what she had wanted him to ask.

"This!" She threw her arms out and gestured around the room.

Ewan looked confused, and she laughed.

"We call ourselves the Order of the Merced," Stephanie explained. "It pretty much started right after Ellen's folks died. They believed in going to church and everything, but once Ellen took her job, it was impossible to get up early enough to attend, so she just kind of prayed on her own. When I met her, that's what she was doing. I wasn't the religious type, but I knew what she was doing was kind of weird and I asked her about it. She told me that she couldn't go to church, so she found her own ways of acting on the will of God. She told me that she just used what time she had to do her best, to help people as she could, and to spread the word of God."

Here, Stephanie paused and pulled her hand away from her arm, where she had been subconsciously fingering the hem of her sleeve.

"After we'd gotten to talking," she went on, trying to sound as though she hadn't stopped. "She somehow got out of me why I was at the hospital. I really don't know how—she's just got some kind of empathetic gift or something—but when I told her that I didn't really have anyplace to go, she invited me to stay with her. I was kind of reluctant, and had figured on just taking her up on her offer, stealing what I could from her, and splitting, but then I learned what a genuinely good person she is, and I couldn't. We even became friends, eventually.

"A little later, I found another girl who was in the same kind of situation that I had been not too long ago. I felt for her so much that I asked Ellen if she might be able to take the girl in if I were to leave, but Ellen didn't like that idea, so she told me about this fortune her parents had left her when they died, and said that she'd use some of that in order to buy a bigger space for us. We took the girl in, she lived with us for a little while, and then word started getting out about us. Soon we had more people coming in, requesting us by name; we even got donations once—Ellen sent it back, of course."

Stephanie laughed at the memory, shaking her head.

"So, why were you in the hospital?"

Stephanie looked up, a little startled.

"If you don't mind my asking, that is," Ewan added cautiously.

"Oh, not at all," she said. "I'm actually surprised you hadn't noticed yet."

She rolled up her sleeves and put her forearms on the table, exposing deep scars across her wrists and up her arms. Ewan was silent, but his wide eyes spoke for him.

"Ellen saved me from a lot of pain," Stephanie said, no pain left in her voice now. "She's like God's own embodiment of grace and forgiveness. I won't ever be able to repay her for what she's done for me. I don't think anyone we take in will."

She removed her arms from the table and pushed her sleeves back over them.

"I think what sticks with me most is what she told me when I asked her why God hated me so much to put me in the family He did. She told me that she thought God didn't really have any part in it—all he did was give us life. It was up to us what we did with it."

Ewan frowned wonderingly at this theory.

"I guess it's kind of what we base all of this off of," Stephanie went on to say. "That God doesn't really grant us His grace directly, but rather gives us the choice to show this grace ourselves, to our fellows. Ellen is a living example."

Ewan closed his eyes, but knew that there were no tears left for the loss he still felt. He, too, had known such a vassal of grace once a long time ago.

There was a sudden sound of heavy footsteps from the hallway, and both Ewan and Stephanie looked up to see Nathan poke his head into the kitchen.

"Mmmm," he breathed in. "That smells great! What is it?"

Stephanie had already bounced up from her chair and was running around the table towards Nathan.

"Me!" she cried, leaping into his arms.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," he grinned, catching her up and kissing her swiftly. He glanced over at Ewan.

"Ah, been torturing our friend with 'the history'?"

"What?" Stephanie whined, pretending to be insulted. "He asked!"

"Oh, really? And how far did you get before I interrupted?"

"Pretty far, actually," Stephanie admitted. "I just haven't gotten around to the 'here and now' deal."

"You mean how we space our jobs?"

Stephanie nodded sort of dreamily, leaning in to nuzzle his nose.

"Like the one that you're about to be late for?"

"The one I'm—what?" Stephanie quickly looked at her watch and let out a shriek at the sight of the tiny neon numbers. "Oh, shit!"

She jumped out of Nathan's arms, and dashed out into the hall.

"I love you and I'll see you later, bye!" she called out over her shoulder. Ewan and Nathan heard the door slam shut not a couple seconds later.

"My, she can get going when she wants to," Nathan smirked.

"So what is it about your jobs that it seems I need to know?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow at Ewan, wondering at his straightforwardness. But, sensing no intended ill in his words, shrugged and leaned against the wall behind him.

"Nothing, really," he said. "Just that we space them out so that two people are always in the house at any given time."

"To keep any of your 'saved' from a line of thievery?" Ewan asked in the same emotionless tone he had used with Stephanie.

"It's never happened before, if that's what you're wondering," Nathan said. "But it was Steph's idea—better safe than sorry, you know?"

Nathan pushed off from the wall and went into the kitchen.

"You guys make any coffee yet?"

"I'm pretty sure I smelled some earlier," Ewan said.

"Ah!" Nathan grabbed himself a mug and poured some coffee after he'd found the pot. "Want some…what was your name?"

"Ewan," he said.

"Got a last name with that, Ewan?" Nathan asked.

"Remington."

He mentally cursed himself for speaking without thinking like that. It was usually at times like these that he chose to change his name in order to preserve his own identity, but this time it simply rolled off of his tongue, as it had done for the past fifty years.

_Who knows? _He thought momentarily._ Perhaps this is the name I was meant to keep._

Nathan was putting the milk back in the fridge when something unusual caught his eye. He thought he saw a white-haired man standing on the sidewalk across the street from the building, but when he blinked, the man was gone.

Nathan shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the strange image.

_Gotta get more sleep, _he thought, then took a sip of the coffee._ Ugh. Needs more sugar.

* * *

_

Farther into the city stood a block of abandoned derelict buildings, among which stood what looked like an ancient gothic-style cathedral. Many of it's once-glorious stained glass windows were now full of holes, it's beautiful stone streaked from exposure to the unforgiving elements, it's roof collapsed in a couple places. The once-proud structure had at one time been home to many faithful worshippers, but now taking shelter within its walls were souls of the damned.

At the end of the church, where the altar had once stood was now erected a throne of sorts, constructed of what seemed to be a blackened and thorn-covered wood that had simply grown out of the floor. Lain out in a curve of the creation was a lavish red velvet cushion, on which sat a woman with long, wavy magenta hair and lavender eyes. Over her perfectly red lips, the tips of her fangs showed, the edges of her mouth turned up in anticipation of the report to come. At her side, her three followers knelt, eagerly awaiting the news themselves. They had all sensed the presence of the white-haired demon before he entered the cathedral, but all four waited patiently until he had approached the woman and bowed before her.

"Charlotte-sama," he addressed her formally. "I have been observing them as you requested of me. The priest was found, and he is being cared for. Our target, however, is not yet ready for the operation to commence."

Charlotte's mouth twitched, and her fangs grew brighter for an instant.

"We are running short on time, Aion," she told him.

"No one knows that better than I, Charlotte-sama," he told replied, apparently unafraid of her impending wrath, as the three at her side were; their hands were shaking. "But we must give it just a little more time. The Saint has not yet awakened."

At this, Charlotte seemed to become a bit more testy.

"I've told you before," she growled. "Do not use that name. It speaks to highly of the simple vassal we are to use for this rite."

Aion bowed again humbly.

"I apologize," he said, still as coolly composed as though he stood before the mere throne itself, and not the powerful entity that sat before him. "I had forgotten."

"See that you do not forget again."

"Yes, Charlotte-sama."

If either of them heard the snigger that came from the red-haired female at Charlotte's side, neither showed it. Seemingly dismissed, Aion turned to leave, but before he could get halfway to the door, Charlotte called to him.

"Aion."

He stopped, but did not turn.

"Need I remind you why we are doing this?"

He remained silent, but she knew he was listening. This was the only reason he obeyed her as he did. She maintained control over him through his lust for power. He would never forget.

"This is the only way, Aion," she said, her smile revealing fully all four of her gleaming white fangs. "The only way to restore the power that was taken from you when you were defeated by the Saint's Sinner."

Aion sneered unconsciously. He would have liked to forget that day. He would have liked that very much. He left without another word. Silence was left behind him.

"My lady," one of the male demons said after a while. He was the thinner of the two, and his tight, black tank made this quite apparent. "Are you sure he is trustworthy? He is, after all, one of the Sinners."

"The last of them," Charlotte added with an amused smile.

"Yes," the man agreed. "But he and his kind got their title from slaughtering our own. Can we trust him?"

Charlotte laughed; a low, sensuous tone that made the man shiver.

"I trust him about as far as I can throw him," Charlotte answered.

The man knew this expression had a mixed meaning, for he had witnessed how far Charlotte could throw Aion. It had not been pretty for Aion, but the sight had been much enjoyable for the man. He grinned at the memory.

"Never fear, Yen," Charlotte told him. "This demon is mine so long as I hold power before him just out of his reach, but lead him to believe that he can take it from me."

Yen's grin grew into a short laugh.

"You are most clever, my lady."


	2. Musings

Author's Note (Part Duce!): As in my first post, please all readers note that this is a fictional work. Even through I did a bit of research in order to put it together, I could be at fault on any occasion. Hell, my source could even have been totally phony…gosh what a horrid thought…

Anyway, yeah; I don't own Ewan Remington, Aion, Chrno, Rosette Christopher, or anyone else associated with Chrno Crusade. But that should go without saying, right? I'm submitting this story to a place called fanfiction dot net! I mean, how much more obvious could you get?

Oh, and one little personal note I thought was cool that I wanted to share—I wrote Ellen's epiphany sequence right of the top of my head. I love it when I do that!

I'm going to stop rambling now and let you guys read the second chapter of The Cross of Lorraine. Thanks for bothering to read my pointless intro!

—Koru-chan

* * *

Chapter Two: Musings

The sun had just begun to set, casting rust orange rays of light through the western windows of the apartment when Stephanie returned from work.

"I'm home!" she called into the hall, removing her shoes at the door. The call echoed through the entire house, easily reaching the ears of Ewan from behind the door to his room. He got up from the bed he had been sitting on to greet Stephanie, but came out into the hall to see that Nathan had beaten him to it.

"Hello, love," he said, sweeping her off her feet. "Long time no see!"

"It's only been a couple hours," Stephanie giggled, her hands linked comfortably behind his neck.

"Ah," Nathan lamented. "But there is an eternity of agony that awaits me in each moment you are not by my side!"

Stephanie giggled louder.

"So now you're spouting poetry? When did this happen?"

"See how bored I get when you're not here?" he smirked. "I'm reduced to expressing myself through prose."

"Well," said Stephanie, pulling herself closer. "That's not so bad is it?"

Their lips met and Ewan turned embarrassedly away as the two enjoyed a slow, passionate kiss. Stephanie was the first to notice their audience and pulled back, taking her arms from Nathan's neck to be let down.

"Sorry about that," Stephanie said.

Ewan was about to protest, when Nathan did it for him.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Nathan said. "It's probably nothing he hasn't seen already. You've had a girlfriend before, right Ewan?"

"Well—"

Ewan looked away again. There had been someone before. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of her. But she was long gone now. All he had left of her now were his memories.

The three were saved from the awkward silence as Ellen burst from her room in her nurse' outfit.

"It's about time you got here, Steph," she was saying, buttoning the bottom of her blouse and straightening it out, not noticing what she had walked in on. "Remember; it's your turn to cook dinner tonight and—"

She looked up at this, and saw Ewan staring at her with a strange mix of concern and surprise on his face.

Lost in his memories, the sight of Ellen in such clothing took him to another place in his thoughts; a place where he could see the girl who had brought them all together. The one who had brought him closer to peace that he had ever though possible. He hadn't noticed it until now, but Ellen's resemblance to her was startling. She had the same beautiful blue eyes.

"Ewan?"

He blinked and shook off the memory, hearing Ellen call to him.

"Ewan, are you all right?"

Ewan looked from Ellen to Stephanie and Nathan. They were all looking at him with quizzical expressions on their faces.

"Erm, yes. Yes—I'm fine. Sorry; I just—"

But he was unable to think about what he had 'just' been doing, and turned away. He turned back at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right, Ewan," Ellen said, her hand still on his shoulder. "Whatever you've been through must have been terrible, but just know that we're here to help. You can tell us or not tell us about it now, but please remember that secrets kept bottled up aren't good for the soul."

Ewan felt another hand on his other shoulder and turned to see Nathan standing there.

"Yeah, man," he said. "Anytime you want to talk; we're here for you, okay?"

Ewan shrugged off his surprise and replaced it with a grateful smile.

"Thank you all," he said. He couldn't bring himself to say that he could never tell any of them what caused his pain, nor why he could never fully heal from it, but it gave him comfort to simply know that there were people like these three in the world to watch out for other lost souls who had the hopes of redemption.

They all simply smiled back at him.

"All right then!" Nathan said, jumping into the kitchen. "Who wants dinner?"

"No way!" Stephanie cried, bounding after him. "It's my turn to cook dinner! You get away from that apron right now, mister!"

"But I love my 'Kiss the Cook' apron!" Nathan whined.

"That's _my_ 'Kiss the Cook' apron, stupid!"

Ewan and Ellen watched on in amusement as the two danced around the kitchen after the apron.

"Well," Ellen said finally. "I think I'd better escape before I'm forced to eat anything those two come up with."

"But you would subject me to such punishment?" Ewan asked.

"It's only fair since you don't have a job yet!" Ellen laughed. "See you later!"

Ewan waved to her as she left, then turned only to narrowly avoid a flying salt shaker that went skittering across the floor.

"That's seven years bad luck!" Nathan laughed.

"That's for breaking a mirror, moron!" Stephanie countered. "Now give me back my apron!"

* * *

After dinner, Ewan noted how stealthy Nathan and Stephanie thought they were being with their hints of 'dessert.' He took his first chance to excuse himself, and offered to take care of the dishes, seeing as they were both tired and wished to go to bed early. It wasn't so much Ewan's subtlety as his acceptance of their flirtatious behavior in his presence that surprised the pair, but they were grateful. 

"Thank you, Ewan," Stephanie said as he picked up their plates.

"Good night," Ewan replied with a faint grin as Nathan guided her by the waist to their room and winked at Ewan before closing the door.

Ewan found a stereo in the living room and turned it on to avoid overhearing any awkward noises as he was doing the dishes. The music was pleasant to listen to—a blues album centered on the piano. He wondered who it belonged to, but didn't see how it could belong to anyone but Ellen. It seemed much too mellow to belong to Nathan or Stephanie. At a particular tune, he found himself humming along, and realized that it was the tune she has been humming to herself as she was making breakfast that morning. It still sounded familiar, but he didn't know what it was. This didn't bother him at all though; he was content just to listen to the music as he ran his hands through the hot water.

Soon, his mind was drifting off to times gone by. He saw faces that would live for eternity in his memory. Some were good, some were bad, and some he didn't know if it would be better to keep in mind all his days or banish to the back of his thoughts. Either method promised pain.

His methodical hands searched around in the water for another dish to wash, but he suddenly found that he was done. He drained the water and dried his hands on a towel, then went into the living room. He hadn't really taken a good look around yet, and thought it would be better to take his time in here than to risk passing by their bedroom door at an awkward moment on his trek back down the hall.

It was a very nice room, with pale shades of green everywhere, tinted with just a little maroon here and there. The carpet beneath his feet was a lovely pale olive plush, and there was a piano in the corner, dotted here and there with what looked to be like family photos. Ewan went over to get a closer look, and saw that the majority of them were taken up with shots of Ellen and Stephanie together. Then there were a few with Nathan in them as well; even one with just those two in a very intimate pose; neither seemed to notice that anyone had taken a picture. There were other photos, where the three were pictured with a fourth person. Ewan guessed that these were people that the three had cared for. One shot featured a young woman with short hair vigorously shaking Stephanie's hand, while holding a piece of paper in the other. Ewan couldn't quite make out what it was, but he guessed it was some kind of notification for employment or the payment of a debt. Another shot featured a man with both arms slung over Stephanie's and Ellen's shoulders, while Nathan feigned mock jealousy. The man had a long scar over one missing eye and was horribly disfigured. A third depicted a middle-aged woman holding one of Ellen's hands in both of her own. She seemed to be praying.

This last one reminded Ewan of something he had seen long ago, in his past life; an older woman bowing over the hands of a blonde girl after she had healed her. The blonde girl had smiled, but her eyes were empty. He closed his eyes for a moment. Even though she had been changed from that image before her death, he had not seen it. It was the most recent image of her his mind would allow. He tried to content himself with the thought that she had been saved from that fate, but his mind was still full of doubt, even now. What if they had not saved her at all? What if that had been her true destiny? What if all they had done had merely led her to an early death? What if, in that form, she might have lived longer; lived to heal many more before her time was up?

These questions had tormented him since he had heard of her death about six months after her disappearance, and were a relentless reoccurrence in his mind. He thought that they would probably remain so for the rest of his life. He tried now to simply put them out of his daily thoughts—his dreams were enough to haunt him for the rest of time.

His unseeing eyes finally came to rest on the largest of the photos on the piano, and he was once more brought out of his thoughts. He was so startled by what he saw that his jaw went slack. He grabbed for the photo to have a closer look, but there was no mistaking it; though their hair color was different, and they were much older than he remembered, this was a photo of the two who had been at the center of the chaos that had taken place nearly a century ago—the two who had come to be known over time as the Saint and her Sinner.

Ewan shook his head and set the photo back on the piano.

_No, _he thought._ That can't be. They died so long ago. How could this be a picture of them?_

And yet, his heart would not agree with his mind. The resemblance was too striking. What could it mean?

He was startled out of his thoughts as the CD he had been playing began skipping at an annoyingly high note in the singer's tune. He strode over to the stereo and quickly shut it off, wincing as he got closer and closer to the source of irritation, then fumbled around a few minutes before he located the 'power' button and shut it off. Sighing with relief, her turned back to his source of interest only moments before and found that he no longer had any desire to look. It made him tired just to think about the possibilities of what that photo could mean, and he didn't feel up to the contemplation right then.

Listening carefully, and determining that there wasn't anything more going on in the room on the other side of the hall, Ewan carefully picked his way past the room Nathan and Stephanie had disappeared into, and made his way to his own room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Breathing out, he found that the air in his body had been the only thing supporting the rest of him. Every inch of him felt exhausted.

_That's what you get for letting your muscles deteriorate over about twenty years_, Ewan chided himself, the taste of humor, like cold iron in his mouth. But this didn't change the fact that he was tired. So, he shuffled over to the bed and collapsed on top of it, asleep before his head hit the pillow. The dreams awaited him.

* * *

By 4 am that morning, Ellen's shift was over. Marcy and Paula came to take over at the hospital's reception counter as she and Barrie took up their coats and purses and walked each other to the hospital doors. 

"Good night," Barrie called to Ellen, stifling a yawn with one hand as they parted ways at the parking lot.

"You should get more sleep," Ellen told her friend. "We can't have you falling asleep at the wheel—then we'd be short a receptionist and heavy one patient!"

It was an ongoing joke between the receptionists and most other hospital employees how long it would take one of them to end up in the sick bay.

"How do you do it, Elle?" Barrie yawned back. "I heard you covered for Annette once—a 16 hour shift!—and you didn't yawn once!"

Ellen only smiled. "You can't believe everything you hear, Barrie," she said. "Otherwise we'd be as paranoid as those poor souls in ward B!"

Barrie laughed and unlocked her car.

"Good-night, Barrie!"

"See you tomorrow!"

Barrie started her car up, and Ellen walked off the parking lot towards the sidewalk. When she felt the car's headlights hit her back, she turned and waved to her friend as she turned out into the street and drove off into the night.

With Barrie gone, Ellen closed her eyes briefly and looked inside herself for any trace of that mortal enemy; weariness. She'd locked it up deep inside herself after she had gotten tired of its presence when her parents died. It seemed like every day they were gone, it got worse. One day, she just stopped doing anything. She'd been in a state of unwillingness to do more than eat and sleep for about two months before her landlady had stormed up to her room and knocked on the door, demanding her payment. Surprisingly, it was what the woman had said that had brought Ellen to her senses.

"You're either going to pay or you're not going to pay!" she'd shouted at Ellen's door. "But if you're going to pay you'd better do it now—I don't have forever!"

_No,_ Ellen had thought then, her parents' faces once more coming painfully to mind. _No one has forever._

That's when it struck her.

_No one has forever. Not even me._

Needless to say, the landlady was surprised, but not unpleased, when Ellen came to the door with a smile on her worn face and a check for her monthly payment in her hand.

"God almighty, Ellen," the landlady had said at her appearance. "How long has it been since you took a shower?"

"Two months," Ellen said brightly. "Guess it's about time I stopped stewing in my own juices, huh?"

The landlady was too confounded by this sudden change and unusual dialogue-attitude pairing to say much else after that, and, having what she came for, left Ellen alone.

After that day, Ellen made a vow to live every day to its fullest, and to make the most of what time she had. As her parents had shown her, no one has forever, and she had squandered enough of her time on mourning for them. So, locking all of her pain and weariness up inside her, she took it upon herself to do what every person is put on this earth to do—live.

When Ellen came out of her thoughts, she felt a smile on her face.

_Sorry I wasted so much of this precious time you gave me, Mom, Dad,_ she thought outwardly. _But I promise to make the most of it now; and when we see each other again, I know you'll be proud of me._

That thought brought her so much joy that her simple smile evolved into a laugh, and she began skipping down the sidewalk towards the apartment building.

She was suddenly sobered when she heard the sound of footsteps ahead of her and saw the shadow of someone lurking in the alleyway ahead of her. In reaction to her stopping, the figure ducked back into the alleyway and Ellen could hear their footsteps move quickly away.

Knowing it was probably better not to provoke anyone who enjoyed lurking down dark alleyways at 4 am, Ellen didn't make a sound as she crept towards the alleyway and cautiously peered around the corner. She was surprised to find that no one was there.

_Hmmm, _she thought._ Strange.

* * *

_

He waited until she had passed around the corner of the next block before moving another inch. His mind was screaming but his face showed not a hint of the sound that grated on his very sanity.

There was a time when he would not have had to take such measures to avoid the attentions of a simple mortal girl. There was a time when his powers had surpassed even those of that infuriating pink-haired woman in the cathedral.

Finally, his fury could no longer be held within, and he lashed out at a nearby brick wall. A fist-sized crater was formed in the mortar and Aion's mind was suddenly filled nothing but the excruciating sensation that was running through his knuckles, up his arm and into his brain. Wincing, he pulled back and looked at the damage—bloodies knuckles, that would undoubtedly bruise come sunrise.

"That was stupid."

Aion whirled at the insinuation and beheld one of the male demons that had been at Charlotte's side when he had reported to her in the cathedral. His blonde hair was cropped and tousled with an overly fragrant hair gel that Aion found extremely offensive. In fact, he found this demon to be one of the most offensive creatures he had ever had the misfortune to meet.

"What do you want, Yen?" he growled.

"Just watching to make sure that you don't fuck things up for us," he replied haughtily. "What are you doing, letting yourself be seen by that girl?"

Aion had to exert all of his willpower not to hit this man. Instead, he held his injured hand tenderly and turned his back on him.

"What I do is none of your concern," he said evenly.

He turned over his shoulder and threwYen a piercing glare. "Shouldn't you be running errands for your mistress like a good lapdog?"

The other demonmerely laughed at this—he knew that Aion was only trying to insult him because that was all he could do in his position.

"This is one of them."

That got his attention. He turned around to defend himself just as Yen rushed him and caught his cloak around his stomach, forcing his right hand into his face. It was only up close that he now noticed the satanic seal on his palm. As it was released, he felt as though the flames of hellfire had begun to consume him, beginning with his face. He screamed, and Yen grinned.

When it was over, Yen released him and he fell back against the brick wall of the building, clutching at his face. He tried very carefully opening his eyes, but could only see vague shapes and colors swimming before him.

"What…what did you do to me this time, spawn?" he snarled.

Yen inspected his nails unconcernedly.

"Just a little present from our lady," he told him. "You'd better make good use of this one, because I doubt she'll give you any more."

_Damnit, _he thought._ That hurt a lot more than the last ones. At least that means this one must have that much more power._

"Honestly," Yen went on to say. "I don't know what she sees in you. Sure, you used to be one of the Sinners, but you were taken out by a mortal and her pet! How pitiful is that?"

Aion knew where he could touch a nerve with him here.

"Charlotte needs me because of my connection to the Saint," he said, grinning as his returning vision revealed Yen's slowly contorting face. "Because I am the only one who has the ability and the memories to render our Saint useful to Charlotte.

"Not to mention," he went on to say. "Your lady has taken other interests in me…"

Aion was cut off as Yen fastened a tight grip on Aion's throat and pushed him back up against the wall of the building, all in one swift motion.

"Shut your mouth, filth," Yen spat into Aion's still-grinning face. "If Charlotte-sama didn't need you to restore her powers, I'd kill you right here. And you'd be helpless to stop me. Never forget that, you miserable excuse for a demon—though Charlotte-sama values you, you have no more power over any of us that that impassive wisp of smoke, the astral line. You got that?"

Aion gripped Yen's wrist just below the hand that was at his throat, loosening his grip thought muscle control.

"And you would to well to remember," he told him. "That my life holds more value than yours in your mistress' favor."

It was then that Yen noticed that Aion was allowing the blood from his knuckles flow off of his hand and onto Yen's arm.

"Wouldn't it be a shame if she were to find my blood on your hands?"

Yen jerked away and shook the droplets off his hand frantically. What Aion implied was true—if Charlotte found out that he had harmed Aion in any way, there would be hell to pay.

"Run back to your master now, little lap dog," Aion said. "I'm sure she's waiting to receive notice that you have given me her gift, instead of keeping the power for yourself."

Yen had already gotten off as much blood as he could without getting it on his clothes. He looked up at Aion and bared his fangs.

"Mark my words, you hornless bastard," Yen vowed. "When your usefulness has run out, I will gladly rid myself of you."

"I look forward to it," Aion said coolly.

With one last glare, Yen backed away into the shadows and disappeared. Aion let his mask fall for a moment, his eyes clouding over with all that had happened.

_The moment I get my powers back, _Aion thought._ The very second they return to me, I am going to rip that pissant's throat out. _

Aion's hand clenched unconsciously over the seal that was now imbedded in his hand. Feeling the power gather in his grasp, he exerted more control over it and forced it back into the seal.

_But I will have to content myself with that fantasy for now, _he told himself._ It won't be long now—if Charlotte has chosen to give me this particular seal, our target must nearly be ready._

With that comforting thought, he headed back off into the night, letting its coolness wash over him, soothing his temper.

_Not long now. Soon, I will once again be able to take back the power of the Sinner, and the world will tremble before me.

* * *

_

Author's Afternote: Sorry if I made Aion seem a little cliché, you guys, but I'm not that great at the whole egotistical villain thing. I'm much better at what Aion is to become in this tale, so stick around for the next installment!


	3. Memory

Author's Note: I don't own any of those copyrighted characters who appear in Chrno Crusade.

Yeah, I'm really tired. Can you tell?

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the next installment. It's a bit shorter than my last couple, but there will be some chapters like that, and some maybe twice this length. In any case, it'll get more exciting soon; I promise. So, stick around, okay?

Oh, and please leave all questions and comments over in the review…thingy…yeah…

Peace out.

—Koru

11.09.06: Put the title up. Finally. I'm evidently very bad at that. Strange, as I'm usually obsessive about storyline continuity...

* * *

Chapter Three: Memory

Ewan didn't know how many hours he'd already lain awake in his room, so he was surprised when he heard the sound of keys at the front door, and the slow creak of their hinges as Ellen entered the apartment on what she hoped were silent footsteps.

Quietly, Ellen shed her sneakers by the door, then hung up her umbrella and coat, and was about to start taking the pins out of her hair when she turned around and just about collided with Ewan.

In the few moments that she inhaled, ready to let out a shriek of surprise, she caught it in her throat and sensibly reminded herself that even though someone was up, that didn't mean everyone else was as well. She exhaled heavily and seemed to deflate.

"Ewan," she whispered heavily. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," he whispered back, supporting her theory that Stephanie and Nathan were still asleep. "I didn't mean to."

"No, that's all right," she said. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep."

That wasn't terribly unusual for those she and her friends took in. Most of them admitted how strange it felt to sleep on something so soft as a bed, when they had been used to the ground or wooden benches for so long.

Ellen went around Ewan on her way to the kitchen, pulling pins from her hair.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked over her shoulder.

Ewan felt that he should have offered to make it himself, but he still didn't know where anything was.

"Yes, thank you," he said instead, and followed her into the kitchen.

When Ellen was finished taking the pins out of her hair, Ewan noticed something. The waves in her hair curved at the exact places where her hair was kept up. He recalled the photo he had seen earlier that night. Neither of the people in that photo—though their resemblance to Ellen was unmistakable—had wavy hair.

"How often do you put your hair up like that?" Ewan asked before thinking, then mentally kicked himself. _What a strange question to ask out of the blue like that!_

Ellen turned away from the cupboard she had opened to find the teabags and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear at the mention of it.

"My hair?" she asked. "Oh, often enough so that it's always crimped up like this. I actually have straight hair, like my mom. Doesn't seem like it, does it?"

Ewan shook his head in reply, but she'd already turned around to fill the teapot. He went around the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining and living room and leaned on it as he watched her prepare the tea, memorizing where she put the tea bags away and from which cabinet she grabbed the mugs. When she turned around and saw him watching so intently, she just smiled. Had she been about three years younger, it might have inspired a blush out of her, but she and Stephanie had had more than a few male guests in the apartment before and—being the young women that they were—had gathered such attention before. Ellen had taught herself not to mind. She could always sense if someone's intentions were pure or not. She could sense no impurities in Ewan's gaze. At her smile, he simply smiled back.

Soon, the tea was ready, and Ellen brought two mugs to the table. Ewan took the mug with a murmur of thanks and took a sip of tea before realizing what he was drinking from; it looked like a cup-sized planting pot with a handle. He looked it over quizzically as Ellen laughed.

"Steph went through at pottery phase," she explained, laughter apparent in her tone. "She got very creative with her projects. I have another one that looks normal, but has a small frog in the bottom. If the liquid isn't transparent, you can't see him until you've drunk halfway to the bottom."

Ewan laughed out loud at this thought, and Ellen joined him, but soon composed herself and held a finger to her lips, indicating the closed door across the hall that lead to Stephanie and Nathan's room. Ewan made an apologetic face and took another sip of his tea, which had begun to cool off. It tasted like chamomile.

_To help me sleep, no doubt,_ he thought, recognizing the gesture. Then he remembered why he was having trouble in the first place and his thoughts returned to the photo in the living room. Ewan set his planting pot down and was silent for a moment. He wondered if he should ask, but he didn't see how else he was going to get to sleep, even with Ellen's tea.

"Would you mind if I asked you something, Ellen?"

Ellen, whose thoughts had apparently been elsewhere at the time, turned from the kitchen window, through which one could see the half moon, waxing its way into entirety, and focused on Ewan.

"Not at all," she said unconcernedly, taking a sip of her tea.

"The people in that large photograph in the living room on the piano—are they your parents?"

"Oh, you saw that?" Ellen smiled. "Yes, they are."

"Would you mind telling me their names?"

At this, Ellen blinked slowly in question, but didn't see the harm in such a question. She set her mug down.

"Elizabeth and Eric Montreal; why do you ask?"

Ewan closed his eyes and smirked grimly.

_Of course they wouldn't have the same names_, he told himself, but said aloud, "No reason; they just looked very much like two people I knew once a long time ago."

Ellen smiled.

"There is no reason they couldn't be the people you knew," she said comfortingly. "Who knows? Maybe you _have_ met my parents, and our meeting was fated?"

Ewan laughed, but it was humorless.

"I doubt that," he said.

"Oh, come on," Ellen prompted, not at all put out by his disbelief. "Tell me; what were these people like; the ones that looked like my parents?"

Ewan looked up at Ellen, and saw in her face that she was truly interested to hear what he could tell her. Sighing, he leaned back. Where was the harm?

"The girl I knew was younger than you are. Younger than Stephanie, even. She had a stubborn streak, and an outspoken attitude that hid her graceful soul. She was full of passion and kindness, and a fire that was stated only by her partner—the one who looks like your father. He was a bit younger than her in appearance, though in fact quite a bit older; yes, isn't that odd?—" he said in response to Ellen's questioning glance, "—but you could tell when you spoke to him that his soul was much older than his appearance suggested. Almost tragically so."

A heavy silence passed after Ewan's voice. He had turned away, so he was almost startled to hear the note of profound surprise in Ellen's voice as she responded.

"That sounds a_ lot_ like Mom and Dad."

Ewan looked up to see the note of surprise mirrored in her face.

"Except that Dad didn't ever seem tragic at all," she went on, her eyes tracing the ceiling unseeingly for memories of her parents. "And Mom wasn't exactly _graceful_."

She chuckled a bit at whatever memory was associated with that comment.

By now, Ewan was thoroughly intrigued.

"Do you…do you know how they met?" he asked.

Ellen was too far in her memory to wonder why he was asking, and so answered without much thought.

"I asked them that myself many times—just to hear the story," she said wistfully. "It was like something out of a fairytale, and both of them loved telling it. They met not a year out of college, at a wedding of all things. Dad's brother, uncle Chris, was getting married to Mom's best friend's sister, and they met at the reception. They both told me that when they first saw each other it was like love at first sight, but so much more; it was as if they had both been searching for the other all of their lives—no, longer than that—and they had finally found one another. Right after that, Aunt Lucy threw the bouquet and Mom caught it. There wasn't much more to say. They were married less than a month afterwards."

Ewan's smile spread slowly across his face at hearing this. He didn't know how it had happened, or why, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind now of who those two truly were. It made him indescribably happy to hear Ellen's tale, and was sad that he couldn't tell her why, but he knew from hearing the way she told it, that on some subconscious level, she understood. She knew what it meant that her parents had found each other, against all odds.

Ewan looked closely at Ellen and felt a realization wash over him—that fated meeting of the two lost souls had come together to form this woman; this 'embodiment of God's own grace,' as he remembered Stephanie saying. He wondered if perhaps this meant something more than he could see, but had to let go of the thought, as he felt the effects of the tea take hold of him, and his brain didn't seem up to the challenge. He stood slowly and took his mug to the kitchen.

"Thank you for the tea," he said quietly. "And for the story. I enjoyed it very much."

"I'm glad you did," Ellen said with a smile, following him to the kitchen and taking her mug to the sink to be rinsed. Ewan caught her hand and took the mug from her.

"Allow me," he said. "You go to sleep—I'll finish up here."

Ellen smiled sleepily up at him and relinquished her cup.

"Thank you Ewan," she said, and made her way to the hallway, turning back before she left the kitchen. "Good night."

"Good night, Ellen."

Ellen had also begun to feel the effects of the chamomile as she had told her parent's story. She had always loved that tale as a little girl, and had requested it as a bedtime story almost every night. She never got tired of it, but it made a lovely lullaby when told with the voice of her mother or father. She remembered the first time she had fallen asleep in the middle of it. She had heard the story enough times by then so that her father's voice had echoed into her dreams. She saw them at the wedding, all bodies faceless, even the bride and groom's, save for the faces of her parents, exchanging knowing glances without even realizing they had, then meeting by the punch bowl and exchanging years of emotion with a single glance. It made her feel warm all over to relive that dream she'd had so long ago. She hadn't remembered it until just now.

She ritually removed her nurses' garbs and slipped on her sweatpants and camisole, then crawled under the covers, the warm sensation still inside her. She was just about to fall asleep when the moonlight suddenly hit her face, as if something had been blocking it just moments before. She frowned and turned her face away from the window, and the thought was soon put from her mind as she fell asleep.

* * *

Back in the kitchen, Ewan dried the mugs and put them back in the cupboard he had seen Ellen take them from. He was very careful not to lose track of his task and break one of the cups, but his mind was wholly on the conversation that had just taken place. Was it possible that the souls of Rosette and Chrno had returned to the mortal world exactly as they were before, in the forms of different people? Ewan knew that in his faith, there was no such thing as reincarnation, but he didn't see how it could be anything else—this could not have simply been coincidence. As he made his way out of the kitchen and down the hall to his room, his thoughts become more and more frustrated--it just didn't make sense! From what he understood about souls, they were simply the sources of life that maintained a person; body and mind. They were small pieces of energy that flowed from the Astral Line into newborns, and returned to the Line at death. There was no individuality there; nothing to maintain the individual personalities—or hearts—of a mortal girl and a demon. 

Ewan stopped in the middle of taking his shirt off while he was in his room.

_Do demons even have souls?_

He shook his head at that—_way_ too much of a tangent to focus on when he was this tired.

Dressed in the nightclothes that had been provided to him when he had first arrived, he lay in bed, awake for just a little while longer before he let sleep take him.

What if He had retained the souls of those two and put them into bodies he knew would someday meet?

_No, _Ewan thought._ Reincarnation—no such thing._

_Well then, what if there was some greater power at work; one that simply maintained justice in the world—made sure that those who deserved it got second chances?_

Ewan frowned at this and rolled over in the bed moodily.

_You're too old, _he told himself._ For such unfaithful thoughts._

But just before he fell asleep, a quieter voice within him argued, _No; you are too old for such resolute faith._

_

* * *

_

Outside, Aion watched Ewan toss in his bed. He smiled wickedly, remembering the last time they had met, twenty-four years ago. Ewan had simply been wandering the earth; an immortal wreck, while he, Aion had maintained his appearances, and had held true to that face in order to show Ewan how little either of them had changed—to scare him simply for the satisfaction.

_You've cleaned up nicely, priest,_ Aion sneered silently through the window at the back of his blonde head. _Despite the mess you've made of yourself over the past century_.

Laughing at how little time had touched Aion as opposed to the Fallen Angel, he moved around on the roof of the complex across from the one Ewan inhabited so that he could look into the other window next to his—inside he saw Ellen asleep. Her face was towards him, and he stared emotionlessly at her for a moment before shifting his weight to walk away. His body had been blocking her face from the moonlight, and as soon as he moved, the light shone on her. For a moment, she looked deathly white, like a ghost. No, more like…_her_.

Aion frowned. This girl looked startlingly similar to…to….

"Ah_-CHOO_!"

Aion sniffed and huddled against the chilling breeze that seemed to reach right through his coat and flesh to his bones.

"Augh," he groaned. "Just had to add insult to injury! It's not enough I'm almost as weak as a mortal; I have to catch a mortal virus, too!"

With that, he turned from the building and stalked back off towards the cathedral, arms wrapped tightly against his body.

* * *

Back in the cathedral, Charlotte felt none of the chill air that whipped around outside. Or if she did, her body was already too cold to feel it. Even when Aion swept in through the front doors, the wind following him briefly inside, she did not blink as her hair was ruffled about. 

"What news do you bring me?" she asked of him.

Aion took his time walking to her and bowing before her; it was his own little act of defiance. She allowed it, still wanting him to think he had _some_ control of his own fate.

"Our…target is nearly ready, Charlotte-sama," he told her, remembering not to use any title.

"Good," she said. "Then preparations need to be made. Jag?"

The most heavyset of Charlotte's three demons stepped forward at the mention of his name.

"Yes, Charlotte-sama?"

"You will begin your summons. Have them finished by dawn."

"Yes, Charlotte-sama."

"Summons?" Aion asked.

"They will serve as guards for you in the time you hold our bait," Charlotte explained. "Jag's summons are best for this, as they are always in a constant state of hunger—no beast of flesh can contend with them."

"Wait a moment," Aion said, his earlier mask of impassiveness slipping to reveal some concern. "'While _I_ hold the bait'? I do not remember agreeing to this, Charlotte!"

"You will address our lady with the proper respect, filth!" Yen spat, stepping forward. Charlotte held out a hand to stop him. Yen backed away. Charlotte stood and took the few steps needed to close the space between herself and Aion.

"Of course you do not remember, Aion," she cooed. "But we cannot keep her here; Jag's demons would be noticed, and it would be all too easy for that Fallen to find us. We don't want that to happen too soon. Your hideout up in the forest is much more suited for this task."

"I would still have appreciated some warning," he said, suppressing a growl.

"Oh, Aion," Charlotte sighed, lifting a hand to his face. "Would you truly refuse me?"

Aion's eyes flicked to where Yen stood, fuming at this display. Aion would not miss a chance like this.

"Of course not," he answered her, taking her hand in his and kneeling before her to kiss it, then looking back up and adding, "My lady."

He could practically feel the heat coming from Yen's glare, but he didn't mind—there was nothing the poor fool could do about this. Aion was in Charlotte's highest favor. If Yen tried anything at all, he would pay most dearly, and not only by Charlotte's hand—if Aion were killed, the secrets Charlotte needed to gain what she wanted would disappear.

Charlotte missed none of this exchange, and while she didn't much care for the bloodlust that passed through the two, she had never been one to discourage a healthy rivalry. Indeed, if she allowed it to continue, she could only see it eventually working out in her favor.

"Jag," she called once more. "Accompany Aion back to his little hideaway. Complete your summons there and report back to me when you have finished."

"Yes, Charlotte-sama," Jag replied, then went to stand by the door to wait for Aion, who was close behind, but who could not leave before shooting Yen one more triumphant glance.


	4. Marking

Author's Note: May I first state that it was never actually my intention of entitling each chapter with the same beginning consonant, but it just seemed to end up that way, and after three chapters, I can't exactly break habit now, can I? So yes; each following chapter from here on out will be one word, beginning with the letter 'M.' If you'd like to play a game, I welcome any guesses to what any of the following titles will be!

Oh yeah, and I don't own any of the copyrighted Chrno Crusade characters, nor do I own anything associated with Chrno Crusade. Nor do I own the rights to movies mentioned below, but I suppose simply mentioning them in a story doesn't really require a disclaimer notice, huh? Oh well! I said it anyway!

Until the next update!

—Koru

11.09.06: Titled this one too. One more to go.

* * *

Chapter Four: Marking

The following evening found Nathan in the kitchen, washing the dishes from that morning's breakfast, which Stephanie had failed to do before she had rushed out the door under the impression that her boss was going to fire her for how late she was. Ewan stepped into the dining room just as he was drying a plate to put it away.

"Hey there, sunshine!" Nathan chuckled. "How late were you up last night?"

Ewan rubbed his eyes at the kitchen lights.

"'Till three am," he answered.

"Oh," Nathan said. "So you we're up when Ellen came home, then?"

Ewan nodded, and then realized what Nathan was doing.

"Do you need any help there?" he asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Not really," Nathan said. "I'm almost done."

Ewan paused at the entrance to the kitchen and there was silence for a little while. Then Nathan turned off the water and turned around.

"Dude," he said. "You're making me nervous. Go sit down, or play with the radio or something."

"Oh!" Ewan jumped up from where he had been leaning against the wall. "Sorry about that."

Nathan just shook his head and chuckled as he turned back to the few dishes he had left. _Who _is _this guy?_

Ewan made his way into the living room, and immediately searched the room for something to occupy his mind. Of course, his gaze first fell on the picture of Ellen's parents, but he quickly turned away. He'd had enough of thinking about that for now. Instead, he found a shelf that appeared to be stacked with all kinds of books and music, but some of the music cases were elongated. He didn't recognize them at all.

Squinting, he found each spine to be labeled with a title. He read through them slowly; _The Terminal, Moulin Rouge, K-PAX, Fight Club, The Whole Nine Yards, Stigmata_….

Ewan frowned at this last one, taking it off the shelf to look at it more closely. On the cover was a woman being crucified. He grimaced at this, not liking how closely associated it was with past memories, and put it back on the shelf.

"You're welcome to watch any of them."

Ewan turned. He hadn't heard Nathan walk over.

Nathan leaned over to see the one he'd just shelved.

"Oh yeah; that one is Ellen's. Don't know why she likes it so much. Considering who she is, I thought it would bother her," he admitted. "But you can't say 'no' to Patricia Arquette, huh?"

He elbowed Ewan, but, getting no response, sobered a bit.

"Have you ever seen that movie?"

"Movie?" Ewan repeated. "It's a film?"

"Uh, yeah," Nathan said. "Why? Haven't you ever seen a DVD before?"

Ewan considered how best to answer this—he really hadn't ever seen a DVD before. Or if he had, he couldn't really remember; he hadn't exactly been very observant over the past…how long had it been…? Twenty years? More than that. Ever since….

"Ewan?"

Ewan came out of memory and looked at Nathan, who was looking at him from an odd angle.

"You okay, man?"

"Yes," Ewan said, giving him a faint smile. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Nathan raised an eyebrow that told Ewan he wasn't satisfied with that answer, but let it drop anyway.

"Whatever you say," he shrugged and went over to the couch. He picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the TV in the corner, then switched it on.

"So, you wanna watch something?"

Ewan looked at Nathan for a moment, then back at the shelf of what Nathan had identified as 'DVDs,' and realized what he was asking.

"Sure," he replied. "Which one would you like?"

"Up to you, man," said Nathan. "Just pick which one sounds good."

"Oh," Ewan said, unsure of this decision. "All right."

So he scanned the shelf once more and pulled one out. Liking what he saw on the cover, he brought it over to Nathan.

"How about this one?"

Nathan took it and looked at it.

"_Michael_?" he read the title aloud, then laughed. "Sure; why not? I haven't seen this one in ages."

"Seen what in ages?"

Both men turned to the entrance of the hallway to see Ellen standing there, once more in her nurse's outfit, preparing to leave. Ewan had once more to shake the vision of Rosettefrom hishead.

Nathan held the DVD case up for her to see.

"_Michael_," he repeated. "Remember this movie?"

Ellen came closer to take a look at it.

"Oh, yeah," she said, smiling. "I used to love this movie. I didn't even know we had it. You two were going to watch it, then?"

"Yup."

"Oh, okay."

Ewan shot her a glance at that tone, but her head was bowed, so she didn't see it.

"Ellen?" Nathan asked.

She looked up at that.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

"Oh?" She seemed to suddenly realize what her expression must have been like, and flashed him a smile. "Nothing—nothing's wrong. Don't worry."

Nathan still wasn't satisfied.

"You're sure?"

Ellen nodded.

"I'm sure."

"You're sure you're sure?" he pressed.

Ellen laughed and gave him a playful punch in the arm.

"I can take care of myself," she said. "I don't need a little boy to walk me to work!"

Nathan laughed in response.

"Whatever you say, old lady!"

Ellen turned to go, grabbed her bag from where she had left it on the table, and headed for the hall.

Ewan watched her until she turned into the hallway and disappeared, then looked back at Nathan.

"'Old lady'?" he asked.

"Yeah," Nathan laughed. "Real soon after I joined these guys, I insisted on doing most things a 'man of the house' would do, you know? That included taking care of bills and the like. Ellen didn't like it, and kept on me about it until she finally claimed seniority in the house, and took over. It was great—you should have seen her face when she called me 'young man.'"

Nathan laughed aloud at the thought.

"But you don't seem that different in age," Ewan said.

"We're not, really," Nathan said. "She's only three years older than me, and four years older than Steph."

"How old are you?" Ewan asked.

Nathan cracked a grin.

"I've been able to legally drink since last fall!"

"Hmm," Ewan acknowledged, then turned back to the door Ellen had left through. After some consideration, he got up to follow.

"Hey, Ewan," Nathan called after him. "I thought we were going to watch a movie?"

Euan turned back, his smile as flawless as Ellen's had been earlier.

"Maybe some other time," he suggested. "When we can all watch it together?"

Nathan knew this was an impractical request, seeing as there was always _someone_ out of the house, but he knew Ewan had his own reasons.

"Yeah, sure," he said instead. "I wanted to see what they had on Comedy Central, anyway."

With that, he turned back to the TV and flipped to the desired channel. Ewan turned back to follow Ellen, but found that she had already left.

* * *

_It will be all right, _Ellen told herself as she walked down the sidewalk._ The chances of that encounter were really slim. It's never happened before—besides, you're not that far from home, and it's a very populated area. If anything happens you can always—_

"AHHH!"

Ellen felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped away, already digging around in her coat pocket for her pepper spray, when she realized who her assailant was.

"Ewan?"

"I'm sorry," he said, still wincing at her shriek. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she said, releasing the bottle in her pocket relaxing a bit. "I just thought—"

She didn't want to tell him what she thought.

"What are you doing out here? Did you need something?"

"Something is bothering you," he told her flatly. "What is the real reason you came into the living room to talk to Nathan?"

Ellen balked a little, but kept herself contained. She had hoped that she wasn't being that obvious. Then again, Nathan had always been the easiest to fool.

_Looks like all men aren't created equally,_ she thought grimly.

"Oh, no," she said offhandedly. "Nothing is bothering me—I was just…hoping for some company, I guess."

Her voice sort of petered out at the end, making for a lame excuse.

_What's wrong with me_? she scolded herself._ I can usually come up with a better excuse than that run-of-the-mill junk! _

But, looking at Ewan, she seemed to sense that she couldn't lie to him like she had everyone else. It was almost as though he knew her lies because…he told them himself.

"Would you mind my company?"

Ellen was a little surprised by his offer, but not displeased.

"Not at all," she smiled genuinely this time.

Ewan could feel her relief at his offer. And so they walked for a while. But it wasn't too long before Ewan found a way to approach his question.

"I take from Nathan's response that you don't usually ask to be walked to work?"

Ellen looked up and flashed a confident grin.

"I can take care of myself, and he knows it," she said, her face the perfect show of a woman empowered.

Ewan suddenly burst out laughing.

Ellen was so startled by this response that the entire façade dropped immediately.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

It took a while for Ewan to compose himself, but he made his best effort, seeing the damage he'd done to her pride in this.

"I—I'm sorry," he gasped. "I mean no disrespect, it's just—" he laughed a little again. "It's just that you look so much like…."

He sobered completely before he could tell her who he felt she looked like.

"Ewan?"

Ellen saw that he was looking pointedly at something across the street, and followed his line of vision until it came to rest on a church whose doors were open, candles within lit. Just inside, Ellen could see the silhouette of a priest sweeping between the pews.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "I was hoping I'd catch one!"

"What?"

Ellen turned happily back to Ewan.

"I left home early today because I was hoping to catch a church still open—it's been a while since my last confession, you know!"

She turned back to cross the street, but was surprised and a little concerned to feel a firm grip on her arm, stopping her.

"Ewan?" she turned back once again. His face was unreadable. "Ewan, what is it?"

Ewan blinked a couple times, then seemed to come to his senses. He let her go.

"Forgive me," he told her. "Go ahead."

She looked at him strangely, then looked around before crossing the street, Ewan close behind her. The priest seemed happy to receive her.

"I was hoping you'd get your chance, my child," he told her with a smile. "I am glad you found one."

"As am I," Ellen said happily.

Ewan watched as Ellen went through the movements of confession, all the time, his eyes on the priest. Even when Ellen was finished, his gaze had not lifted.

"The hospital is close by, right?" he asked her when she came to him at the door.

"Yes," she answered. "It is."

"Would you mind continuing on without me?"

Ellen's hesitation was enough of an answer for him, but she simply said "No, that's all right. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He caught her again as she turned to go, breaking his gaze for the first time since they'd entered the church.

"I'll be there to walk you home tonight, all right?"

"Oh, that really isn't necessary—" she began.

"I insist," Ewan said firmly.

Ellen's smile returned, spreading gratefully across her face.

"Thank you."

He smiled in return, and she left. He watched until she had turned a corner, then looked back at the priest, who was still standing right where Ellen had left him. Ewan, who had been leaning on the threshold of the door to the church this whole time, now lifted off and walked into the church.

"What do you want?" he asked the priest.

"What ever do you mean, my son?" he asked.

"What are you after?"

"My son, are you accusing me—?"

"Answer the question, demon!" Ewan shouted.

At first, the priest's face was one of shock, but that soon melted away to reveal the face of what appeared to be a woman, but with elongated ears and short horns poking out of her dull black hair.

"You'll know soon enough, _Father_," she spat, then lifted her arm and threw a small capsule on the floor, releasing a bright flash. When the spots had faded from Ewan's eyes, she was gone, as was the illusion of the church. Ewan found himself standing in an abandoned building, grinding his teeth.

_How did she know about my past? _he wondered anxiously._ There should be no one still alive who knows me by that title. Except…._

Ewan shook his head.

_But why now? Why after all of these years? What could he possibly want with me?_

He looked at the place where the priest—no, the demoness had been standing.

_There is only one way to find out.

* * *

_

In the old cathedral not far from where she had left Ewan, the demoness appeared before Charlotte, and knelt into a bow before her.

"Everything goes as you have planned it, Charlotte-sama," she told her. "Everything is in place."

"Very good, Avarice," Charlotte said. "Prepare your comrades; the test shall commence very soon."

"All of them?" Avarice asked cautiously.

"All three," Charlotte confirmed.

Avarice hid her reluctance beneath her choppy hair.

"Yes, Charlotte-sama."

* * *

Later that night, Ewan met Ellen at the hospital as promised. He appeared outside just as she was shrugging her coat on. It was Barrie who noticed him first. 

"Who is that tall glass of water out there?" she asked Ellen.

Ellen looked up and Ewan waved. Ellen grinned embarrassedly.

"He's the one we picked up over the weekend."

"No," Barrie gasped. "He's homeless? _Really_?"

Ellen nodded as she stowed her things in a bag.

"Ooh," Barrie said. "He can come and stay at _my_ place if he wants."

Ellen laughed.

"Good night, Barrie," she said.

"You let him know that, okay?" Barrie called after her.

"I'll let him know," Ellen laughed back at her. When she reached Ewan outside, he was still waving at Barrie, albeit a little nervously.

"Why won't she stop waving at me?" he asked Ellen awkwardly out of the corner of his mouth.

Ellen laughed again.

"Never mind her," she said, and began steering him back in the direction of the apartment. "She's just a big tease."

Ewan was pretty sure he knew what this meant, but didn't quite care to elaborate on the thought, and so instead set his mind on their surroundings. After the encounter earlier that night, he wasn't about to take any chances.

Ellen noticed when her companion tensed up, and took his arm in hers comfortingly.

"Everything all right?" she asked when he looked at her.

His brows knitted together for a minute in what seemed to be regret, but then his gaze was directed back out into the night.

"Everything is fine," he said.

"You're sure?"

Ewan nodded.

"You're sure you're sure?" she mimicked Nathan, giving him a playful nudge with her arm.

Ewan looked back down at that and smiled.

"I'm quite sure, young lady," he chuckled.

"Very well then, old man," Ellen giggled. "Have it your way."

Ewan's grin held an ironic twist in it at the thought of the title 'old man.'

_You have no idea,_ he thought with a sigh.

Suddenly, all thoughts of joviality were wiped from his mind as a shiver ran down his spine. He whipped around to come face to face with three people—two men and a woman—standing calmly behind them. But there was something wrong with these people; Ewan could sense it. They were not human.

"Nice to see you again, Father," the woman—who Ewan now recognized as the demon he had met in the false church. "I didn't expect to be seeing you again so soon."

"Who are you?" Ewan demanded. "What do you want with me?"

"Our mistress wants something that you have," the demoness' thin male companion said.

"So, if you'd be so kind," the female continued. "Just stay where you are so that we can collect what we came for!"

With this, all three surged forward, intent on attacking Ewan.

"Hold on," Ewan told Ellen as he grabbed her around the waist and leapt into the air.

"Wait—!" Ellen cried. "What—!"

Suddenly, the wind was rushed from Ellen's lungs as Ewan lifted them both ten feet into the air, narrowly avoiding the demon's attack. Ellen shrieked when the air returned to her lungs, wrapped her arms tightly around Ewan's neck and tightly shut her eyes, preparing for what she knew would be a neck-breaking descent, but none came. When she opened them again, they were still in the air, but seemed to be suspended. Ellen felt the wind buffet around her, but it didn't feel like the wind; no, it seemed to be coming from…Ewan?

Ellen looked up above Ewan's head and was shocked to see a large pair of wings growing out of his back. Her wide-eyed gaze turned to his face, which was still intent on the demons below them.

"Ewan?" she asked breathlessly. "What—what are—?"

"No time to explain," he responded quickly, grimacing as the demons hissed up at him and revealed wings of their own. "Hang on."

"But—AHHH!"

Ewan gave one mighty flap of his wings and they went shooting off into the night sky. Ellen could do little but cling to him and pray that he didn't drop her. It didn't help at all that she was terrified of heights. She buried her face in his chest to avoid looking at the inverted ground below, unable to scream for the wind that gusted around her, stealing the air from her lungs.

Confident that he had a firm grip on her, and that she had a good grip on his neck, Ewan flew as fast as he was able to escape their pursuers.

_Why is this happening? _he wondered frantically._ What exactly are they after? _

He shook his head._ There is no time for that! I have to get Ellen someplace safe so that I can fight them on even ground._

A hot spike of pain shot through his right wing, sending him plummeting for a moment, before he caught himself once more and lifted away. He winced from the effort and gritted his teeth.

_I know I'm not supposed to be using my powers, _he conceded._ But I must if I am to save this innocent!_

With that thought in mind, he swerved in mid-air and flew back towards the building where Ellen's apartment was.

"Ellen!" he called to her.

She looked up hesitantly, but couldn't respond verbally—she was shaking too hard.

"I need to put you down, but if I stop, they'll catch both of us! Do you understand?"

The fear in Ellen's eyes only increased at his implication, and looked out towards where they were heading. She could see her home in the distance. She looked back at Ewan.

_I don't know who you are, or where you came from, _she thought resolutely._ But you haven't given me any reason not to trust you._

Ewan saw the determination grow in her face, but her head still shook on frayed nerves as she nodded to him.

"All right then," he said. "Get ready!"

Ellen could feel his grip loosen on her waist, and she responded by gently unlinking her fingers from behind his neck. They were nearly on top of the building. Ewan threw out his wings and slowed them dramatically.

"NOW!"

He and Ellen let go of each other at the same time, and Ellen twisted around to put her feet out in front of her, landing on the gravel roof and tumbling over.

Ewan watched briefly as she rose shakily to her feet.

_Brave girl,_ he thought admiringly, but didn't have much time to focus on her, for that loss in speed had cost him. He felt a couple ribs snap as the largest of the three demons plowed headlong into his side.

"AAUGH!"

"No!" Ellen cried out.

Ewan heard her and shouted, "Get out of here!"

Ellen thought about arguing, but knew it would be pointless—her presence would only serve as a distraction. She ran for the roof door and jumped inside, speeding down the stairs and emerging at the fourth floor hallway, where she promptly dug her keys out of her pocket and began fumbling with them to unlock the door. Her shaking fingers wouldn't cooperate.

"Come on!" she sobbed, tears beginning to blur her vision. "Come on! _Come on!_"

The door suddenly opened, and Nathan was standing there in the doorway.

"Ellen? What's wrong?" He asked as soon as he saw her face.

"Eh.." she panted. "Ewan! It's…Ewan!"

"What? What happened to Ewan?"

Ellen was spared an explanation as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood came from the kitchen, followed by what sounded like a struggle.

"Ewan?" Ellen called out, running down the hall.

"Wait, Ellen!" Nathan called out after her, right on her heels up until she abruptly stopped at the entrance to the dining room. When Nathan came around to see what she was looking at, he froze in shock.

A great hole had been blown through the kitchen wall in order to admit two winged men, on of whom wore tight clothing over his long, thin frame, and who sported horns over his pointed ears; the other of which was…

"Ewan?" Nathan gasped.

"What the hell!"

Nathan whirled to see Stephanie emerge from their room. She stood as stock still as Nathan had become at the sight. It was then that Nathan's instincts kicked in. He grabbed Ellen's arm in an attempt to pull her away from the scene.

"Come on!" he yelled at her, but she wouldn't be moved.

"No!" she cried. "We have to help him—!"

"There's nothing we can do!" Nathan argued, still pulling at her. "Look at them!"

Ellen stopped struggling long enough to take another look. The two winged men seemed to be in a lock down, pressing against each other's hands with all of their strength. Ellen blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze that was gathering before her eyes, but it wouldn't go away. She soon realized that the haze was the aura that surrounded these two men—it was so powerful that it warped the air around them. Then, Ellen began to sense the individual power of each; it was almost as though the auras had begun to change color, but it was more of an instinctual change than a visual one. It was then that she could see—Ewan's aura was getting weaker. He was losing.

"Let go!" Ellen cried desperately, ripping her arm away from Nathan and running towards Ewan.

"Ellen, no!"

"Stay away!" Ewan tried to yell at her, but all of his energy was going into his battle with this demon; his voice was barely above a whisper.

Ellen suddenly felt a new aura that caused her to turn her head. It was so strong that she felt her eyes water and began sneezing violently. She didn't see the white-haired demon leap from the roof of the building across the street, through the hole and wind up in midair to deliver a ground-shattering blow to the floor with his palm, blowing everyone back. Nathan shielded Stephanie at the last moment, and they both went flying back into their room, while Ellen, Ewan and the demon he had been fighting were all strewn about the room. Ellen felt her head crack against the wall and everything went black.

Aion looked quickly between Yen and Ewan, then over to Ellen. He darted over and grabbed the girl, stepping over the mark he had made in the wooden floor as he made his way quickly back to the hole in the wall.

"We go," he hissed at the demon, who seemed reluctant to leave the battle he had been winning, but obeyed anyway, flying out of the room ahead of him.

Ewan lifted himself from the ground just as Aion looked back at him and smirked.

"No! Ellen!" Ignoring the pain that shot through every inch of his body, Ewan leapt to his feet and launched himself at the demon and the girl. Aion was just about to make his escape when something did it for him. A great surge of energy that seemed at first to pull him back to where he had left the mark held him back for a fraction of a second before blowing him forward and out of the building. He plummeted toward the ground, only to catch himself on the building across the street and drop safely to the ground.

"Clumsy hornless bastard," Yen growled out at him.

Aion decided to make him pay for that later. For now, he had what he had come for—it was time to leave.

Back in the half-destroyed apartment, Ewan rose up groggily from the floor.

_What was that?_ he wondered, holding his aching head.

"Ellen?"

Ewan looked up to see Nathan and Stephanie stumble out of the room they had been thrown into just seconds before.

"Ellen?" Stephanie called again, then spotted Ewan on the floor. "Where is she? Where is Ellen?"

Ewan groaned at the pain in his head, amplified by her anxious tone.

"Gone," he said. "They took her."

"'They'?" Nathan bellowed. "'_They'_? Who the fuck is '_they_'!"

"Demons."

Stephanie sat very abruptly.

"What?" Nathan asked shakily.

"Demons," Ewan repeated. "Demons took her."

Nathan was then also overcome with the strong need to sit. He crumpled to his knees beside the shallow crater Aion had created in the floor. His head slumped onto his chest in exhaustion at what had happened in the last few minutes, when something amidst the rubble caught his eye.

"Hey, what's this?"

Ewan got up and limped over at the note of curiosity that was in Nathan's voice. Stephanie also crawled over to peer over Nathan's shoulder at the hole in the floor.

What met their eyes was a small symbol that strongly resembled a crucifix, but which had two horizontal lines crossing the vertical line, instead of just one.

Instinctually, Nathan reached out to see if it was just a burn mark, or if it had gone through the wood. Ewan barely had the time to call out a warning before they all fell into darkness.


	5. Message

Author's Note: Aww, you guys don't want to play my little guessing game? And I thought it might make things kind of fun, too. And you know, if you guys play, I might just update fast so you can see if you were right or not.

Some things I suppose I should mention—to all those who are still reading this fic, if you are continuing to do so with the hope that Chrno and Rosette will play a part in the tale, I am sorry to say that you will be disappointed. I'm only working with live characters here, and since I saw the anime, they are dead to me. However, they are significant to the tale in some sense, as Ellen's tale of her parents might suggest. Sorry Chrno/Rosette fans—if you want to hear about them, you'd best find another fic.

Oh, and one more thing—because of the chapter-naming, I have an exact number of chapters set up. I'm not going to tell you how many there are, but if you guys guess what the chapter names are, and you get one of them right, I'll tell you the number of the chapter that matches the name! Sound like fun?

And as a disclaimer, I still don't own anything remotely having to do with Chrno Crusade.

See you at the next update!

—Koru-chan

* * *

Chapter Five: Message

It wasn't long before the demons had made their way into the countryside outside town. Aion lead the other three through the high trees, deep into the forest, until they came to what looked like an abandoned house at the edge of a lake. The four hopped down out of the trees and Aion went to stand to one side of the front doors, looking back at the three expectantly.

There was an awkward silence between the demons before Avarice realized what Aion's problem was—with the human girl in his arms, he couldn't open the doors.

Avarice growled with the ridiculousness of the situation and shoved the doors open herself.

"Thank you," Aion said with a mocking twist in his voice. He got another annoyed growl in reply. Yen and Jag strode ahead of him and pushed him aside to enter first. Aion followed calmly before reminding them that one of them had to close the door as well. They both stopped and watched him as he passed by and continued into the run-down building. Yen's glare was significantly laden with acid, while Jag just looked mildly confused.

Yen and Jag's gazes met and Yen sneered, "You heard him. Close it."

Then he followed after the others.

The demons gathered in what looked like the living room of the house. Charlotte was seated comfortably on an armchair that had obviously seen better days, but was the best piece of furniture on the first floor, aside from the couch. Aion stepped before her and presented the girl wordlessly to Charlotte.

"Put her over there," Charlotte said, gesturing lazily to the said couch.

Aion did so, still silent. As he laid her down, he watched the girl's sleeping face. It was the first time he had seen her closely, and he was instantly reminded of the night when he had been observing them. She really did resemble….

"So what do we do with the bitch?" Yen scoffed loudly.

Aion closed his eyes to refrain from doing something too rash, instead waiting a couple seconds before turning to glare at Yen.

"What?"

Aion shook his head, as if to say, _If you don't know, you're an even bigger fool that I could have ever taken you for_.

"We keep the girl here until the full moon rises," Charlotte explained tonelessly.

Her three servants waited patiently for her to continue, but when she didn't, Jag blurted, "And then what?"

Yen and Avarice shot wide-eyed glares at him from either side.

Jag suddenly clamped his mouth shut as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

"There is no need to worry about what is to come, Jag," Charlotte told him, her level voice adapting a dangerously sharp edge. "You will know in all good time."

"My apologies, Charlotte-sama," Jag excused himself with a bow. "I did not mean to offend."

Charlotte made him no answer, but rather turned her attention to the girl on the couch nearby.

"She is the one, Aion?" she asked. "The one who rescued our fallen friend from the streets?"

Aion nodded.

Charlotte rose from her seat and glided over to the couch, bending slightly to stroke Ellen's face with a pale, clawed hand.

"Such a pure soul," she commented quietly. "I might like to devour this one when we are done with her."

Remembering what Charlotte usually did with the energy manifested from the souls she took from the various innocents her henchmen had managed to capture over the years, Aion lifted his hand to observe his now-blank palm.

What had that seal been that Charlotte had given him? Aion knew that it had been meant to bring the angel's true form to light, but how had she made so powerful a seal? It must have taken the power of at least three souls to create the kind of energy he had felt when he was blown from the building.

There was suddenly a smooth, clawed hand in his own, and he looked up to see Charlotte before him.

"What is on your mind, Aion?"

"It is nothing, Charlotte-sama."

* * *

When Nathan woke up, he was lying on the floor of the living room. Right before his eyes, a soft white glow seemed to form. He blinked a couple times before he recognized Stephanie lying just across from him, her hair strewn over her face, the white glow coming from between her shoulder blades. 

"Steph…" he called hoarsely, reaching out to her with a shaking hand.

She didn't stir, but the light seemed to get brighter. Nathan shielded his gaze and looked out from between his fingers at the source of the light. His eyes widened at what he thought he saw there, extending from her spine and draping over her lower body.

Great, white wings.

"Nathan?"

Nathan turned over to be met with a similar sight. His back to him, looking at him over his shoulder, was Euan. From his shoulders grew two large wings; not unlike Stephanie's, but definitely darker in color. These wings had a grey tinge to them, and were dotted with brown, almost as though they were decaying. Even as he watched, a few solitary feathers drooped from the wings and fell to the ground.

"Are you all right?" Euan asked.

Nathan couldn't find the breath to speak.

Euan sighed. He had known this reaction would be unavoidable. He offered Nathan a wry grin.

"Not something you see every day, hmm?"

Nathan shook his head mutely.

Euan nodded grimly, and seeing that he would get no better response out of the boy for now, turned back to what had kept his interest since he had woken up.

The cross was still embedded in the floor, simple and black, but radiating an intense aura. He sneered at the demon scent on it, but what intrigued him even more was the equally potent presence of angel magic. The perfect blend of these scents made absolutely no sense to him, and he had been puzzling over it for the past half hour.

As Euan turned from him, Nathan lifted himself onto all fours and crawled over to Stephanie, gently rolling her onto her side, careful not to crush her—he swallowed hard—_wings_, and placing her head in his lap.

"Steph?" he called gently, brushing her hair from her face. "Stephanie? Say something, baby, please. Don't be…."

"She isn't dead," Euan told him.

"But what about…."

"The wings?" Euan finished. "I have no idea. But she isn't dead."

As if to prove this to him, Stephanie suddenly stirred in his lap, groaning softly as her eyebrows knit together.

"Nathan…?"

"I'm right here, Steph," he said, taking her hand.

"Nathan, what happened?"

He squeezed her hand tighter.

"I don't know."

He turned to look at Euan over his shoulder. "What did just happen here, Euan? And don't pretend that you don't know—I know that you at least have _some_ idea of what just went on here."

Euan sighed and got to his feet. He walked over to where Nathan and Stephanie sat on the floor. He first observed the pure white wings that sprung from Stephanie's back, so much different from his own tainted pinions, then over to Nathan, who seemed to be surrounded by a glowing orange aura. He didn't know what to make of any of it, but he did know that they couldn't remain in this room with the hole in the wall so close by. He knelt and slid his arms under Stephanie, one beneath her neck, the other under her knees, and began to lift her off the ground. He stopped halfway to his feet when he noticed that the light from her wings was rapidly fading. Soon, they were gone, as if they had never been there. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his own wings had vanished as well. Even the aura around Nathan was gone, but each had left the hint of their presences behind.

_They will return, _Euan decided._ When it is time._

_Time for what? _he demanded of himself._ What does this all mean?_

He shook his head_. There will be time to think about that after we find out where they took Ellen, but for now, I must make sure that these two are safe._

"What's going on, Euan?" Nathan asked again, as he followed Euan to his feet.

"I'm not quite sure," Euan admitted. "But I do know that it has something to do with the symbol Aion left in the floor over there."

"'Aion'?" Nathan echoed. "Who is that?"

"A demon."

Nathan made an exasperated noise and ran around in front of Euan to cut him off.

"Look, man, I can see that you're on our side here, and I respect that. But you're not being much help here in the information department. Now, I can tell that there is something really weird going on here, and I know that know more about this than you're letting on. So you either tell me what you know now, or so help me, I'll—!"

Nathan's face screwed up into a painfully frustrated expression as he tried to figure out exactly what sort of consequences Euan would face if he didn't tell him what the hell was going on.

Euan sighed. There was no time for this.

"I will tell you want I can, Nathan," Euan said. "But for now, I just wish to make sure that you and Stephanie are all right."

With that, he pushed passed Nathan and entered their room, laying Stephanie down on the bed. He checked her pulse briefly and, finding it to be strong, lifted his hand to her forehead and closed his eyes.

Nathan watched as a soft glow began to emit from Euan's hand. He was about to jump forward and demand what the hell he thought he was doing, but caught himself. Hadn't he openly admitted that he knew Euan was on their side? Didn't he trust the guy at all?

_I don't know, _he thought sourly._ The guy's been living here for a few days and he fails to mention that he's some kind of…._

Nathan thought back to when he had first woken up, when he had seen the wings on his back.

_What is he exactly?_

The light faded away and Euan lifted himself back up, then made his way out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"She will be fine," he said, answering Nathan's unspoken question. "She just needs to rest for a little while."

Nathan simply stared at Euan until he looked at him.

"What are you?"

Euan matched Nathan's unblinking gaze for a breath or two before he sighed and looked away.

"I am…" he paused, knowing he no longer held the title he wished to tell Nathan. "I was once a part of heaven's highest choir."

"You're…you're an… _angel_?" Nathan squeaked.

"'_Was_,'" Euan corrected him reluctantly.

"Was?" Nathan repeated. "Why? What happened?"

With as many horrible memories stashed away at the back of his mind as he had, Euan had absolutely no desire to recall what had happened on the day he had fallen from grace. He sometimes tried to convince himself that he had forgotten it all together. At Nathan's question, he felt a prick at the old wound, and quickly focused his thoughts elsewhere.

"It is of no consequence," Euan said instead. "Our main concern right now is Ellen."

Nathan was at first a little put out by this lack of a response, but at the mention of Ellen, knew that they had no time to think about that.

"You're right. So, how do we find her?"

Euan smiled at Nathan's enthusiasm, but simply put a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave that to me; what you must do is stay here and watch after Stephanie until she wakes up, then tell her what I have told you."

With that, Euan made for the hall and shrugged on a dark blue coat.

"Wh—where are you going?"

Euan turned back in the doorway.

"To visit some old friends."

* * *

AN: Yeah, I know it's a short chapter. Sorry. But I'm just not seeing that many reviews, so there is very little motivation on this end. Maybe if I got more, I'd post more! ;) 


	6. Misfortune

Author's Note: Well, will you look at that—I haven't been titling my chapters, have I? Silly me! Oh, well; too lazy to do it right now. Maybe later.

In the meantime, it would make me one happy muffin if you few readers out there took a crack at my little game. It might even ensure an earlier chapter! That's why I've taken so long with this one you know; punishment! No good sports out there!

…well, that and a buttload of schoolwork… U

Yeah, I'm just kidding. Keep on hating me if you want.

Shut up and read the next chapter!

—Koru-chan

PS: I've seen this done, and would just like to honor my current readers (or those of them who are still in existence) from those who have been with me from the beginning to the more recent: first and foremost Kieri Norou, my wonderful beta and good friend (luv ya, dear!); then the persistent AShauni21, Tempest Kiro and Dragon-Yue (thanks for the reviews that kept me going, guys!) and the rest of the limited fan club; Davis, RedHawk, AnimeDoll, Megan, Gabrielle, Kai, Kira and Lacus, Pandora, Kimi-chan, Axel, Keigh, krazykitsune, cheeky doggie, Sien and SockMan. Thanks so much for all of your support, everyone!

PeaCe ouT!

* * *

Chapter Six: Misfortune

Ellen came slowly into a hazy consciousness. She could recall very little at first—as if she was waking from a dream—but a sudden freezing gust of wind woke her right up. Throwing her arms instinctually around herself, he eyes widened and became unseeing. She could recall the blast that had knocked her out, but not much more. She searched her memory frantically for any trace of what could have happened to her friends, but to no avail. All she could see was that white-haired demon flying at her, and then…nothing.

_Ewan,_ she thought back to when this whole mess had started—when he had shown her his wings, and used them to escape the…the….

_Who were those people? _Ellen wondered._ Or what were they? They certainly weren't human. And what of Ewan, for that matter? It's not everyday you meet a man who can miraculously grow wings…._

All of this was ringing a faint bell in her mind, but her aching head didn't seem to want her to get any farther than that. She winced and put two fingers to her temple, but was attacked by another gust and quickly put her arms around herself again. Looking down once the breeze had stopped, Ellen realized that she was still wearing the knee-length skirt and short sleeves of her nurse's outfit. Her coat that she usually wore must have come off in the commotion last night.

_Last night?_ she wondered, turning into the wind and looking for its source. Sure enough—morning light was just beginning to show through a gaping hole in the wall that served as a crude window. Taking another look at her surroundings, Ellen found that the rest of her current setting could be described in much the same way.

She sat on a rusted spring mattress on the floor of a dusty room. The woodwork of the walls and ceiling seemed to show termite damage, and the sheets that covered the mattress spoke of countless years in the company of moths, as she found when she tried to wrap it around her for protection against the now-incessant winds.

Further inspection found a door at the far end of the room, though it was made of the same moisture-ridden wood as the rest of the room, and hard to spot save the broken doorknob. Opening it carefully, Ellen found a tray sitting outside, upon which was placed a hunk of bread and a pitcher of water.

_It's like I'm in a prison, or something, _she thought._ But if that's so, where are my guards?_

Ellen was about to reach out for the tray when the hair on her arm stood up and she had to dart back into the room to stifle a sneeze. She froze and waited to see if anyone had heard her, but there was no reaction.

Crawling back out into the hall and checking quickly around to make sure no one was out there, Ellen crept out of the small room and into the open hallway, darting behind anything she could find to keep her out of sight. Out of sight of what—she didn't know.

There was suddenly a great noise from outside. It was like many dogs barking, but the sound was more guttural, and savage; almost as though the animals carried too many teeth to deal with comfortably.

_That's a perfectly horrible thought._

"Shut up!" Ellen heard someone shout.

She held her breath; the source of the voice was one room over. She prayed he hadn't heard her stifle the scream those dog-creatures had nearly inspired of her. Listening for a little while, her ears grew keener, and she realized that the faint scratches she was hearing were the swift strokes of a pen.

_Perhaps he will be too busy with his writing to notice me,_ Ellen thought hopefully, drawing on personal experience. Taking this hope in hand, she edged carefully out into the hall and peeked in through the open door.

She gasped at the sight of the white-haired man, sitting with his back to her at a desk. The small noise alerted him to her presence and he whirled in his seat, shooting her a look of utter surprise.

Ellen could manage little but a squeak as the man leapt from his chair and was standing before her in the blink of an eye.

He spoke not a word, but his face said multitudes. There was anger in his eyes—anger at her presence. She wasn't supposed to be there. But deeper than that, this was an expression that rarely left his face, she could tell. He had an angry soul. It was the confusion that gave his eyes an unusual shine. Confusion at what, though, Ellen couldn't tell.

She only remembered her position when one of his hands darted out and grabbed her arm. His touch sent a shock through her—not quite painful, but very alarming.

"Let go!" Ellen cried on reflex, struggling against his iron grip. It was only when she felt the pinpricks on her arm that she realized how long his nails were. There was something very profoundly wrong about this man.

"How did you get out here?" the man asked her in a low voice. Over her distress, the calm in his tone was almost offending. She stopped thrashing and glared at him.

"Let me go now," she said.

"Not until you answer my question," the white-haired man said. This time, Ellen could hear the subtle fury sitting on his tongue. This was a rage she had no desire to contend with. "How did you get out here?"

Thinking about this question for a moment, Ellen could only give him an incredulous look.

"I walked," she said. Did he know how ridiculous his question was?

Ellen had but a split second of warning as his face contorted with fury before he lashed out and struck her hard. Ellen collapsed, unconscious onto the floor. Aion waited a moment before lifting the girl up and hefting her back to the room he'd placed her in when she'd arrived.

'_Walked',_ he thought_. What impertinence. One does not simply walk though a demonic barrier._

But when he reached the room, he could feel nothing left of the barrier he'd placed at her door. There were some signs that it had been there, but now it was simply gone.

Aion considered the girl for a moment. A bruise was already beginning to form on her cheek where he'd struck her. Her brows were knit with pain.

_She must have some power we were not aware of,_ he speculated_. Or she would not have been able to disable my barrier._

Taking the steps to reconstruct the barrier, this time with more care and effort, Aion thought more on his conjecture.

_Of course. Why else would the Fallen have chosen this girl? She must hold some kind of ability—something we did not take into account._

The barrier finished, he returned to his meager study, too lost in thought to dwell on the horrid condition of the facilities with which Charlotte had accommodated him in his time as prison warden.

_Why, then,_ he wondered_. Did none of us sense anything on her? If the others did, they mentioned nothing to me. And I…are my powers so diminished I can no longer sense divine power?_

Thinking back on his encounter with the Fallen last night, he recalled the sensation that surrounded him. It was like the taste of ash in his mouth, but with a sickeningly sweet aroma.

_No,_ he concluded. _I still have my power of perception, dwindled though it may be._

Then another thought struck him.

Was his barrier so weak that it shattered at the touch of a mortal?

The thought disturbed Aion.

Admittedly, the soul of this mortal was pure, and that granted her a certain level of power, but not enough to dispel the castings of a demon. Not a true demon, anyhow.

Aion briefly fingered patches of scar tissue beneath his hair for the place where his horns had been. He'd given them up so long ago, it was odd to be thinking about them now. But he'd been thinking more about them recently—his power was much less than it had been when he'd first rid himself of them. Almost as though he was being leached of it with each passing century. It was why he had come to Charlotte. Possessing her own horns, she was in no such danger, and now held the promise of his own return to power before him—in exchange for his assistance in this deed. The capture of the Fallen.

_Once I have fulfilled my task,_ Aion thought slowly, attempting to pacify himself with what had in recent months become a daily mantra_. I will have my power returned to me, and I will rid myself of these cretins and their petty schemes._

He looked over his shoulder, considering the room in which he'd left their guest, then sneered, feeling his arms tense at his sides as the fury of what he would never admit as helplessness returned full flame.

_Once I have fulfilled my task….

* * *

_

Ewan's travel-worn shoes stopped inches before the church steps.

He looked up at the rather large building, considering what his presence might mean.

He'd gathered from a number of locals that the Magdalene Order headed this church. He'd at first been a little shocked by the return of such a nostalgic title, but the more he though about it, the more he came to suspect that all of these past connections had very little to do with coincidence.

This, however, was not the source of his hesitation.

Ewan looked back down at the church steps—worn and dust-ridden by the hundreds of thousands of footsteps they had seen over the years. His own would be no different from any other mortal's to these steps. But by taking those steps, he would be setting foot inside a church for the first time in seven years. Two thousand five hundred and seventy two days, by his count—though he wasn't really sure after one thousand five hundred.

"Are you here for confession?"

Ewan looked up. He hadn't heard the girl approach. She stood at the top of the steps, her hands clasped chastely at her front, regarding him with a kind but confused expression. She looked so innocent. He couldn't help but enjoy the light of her purity, and smiled. She smiled back.

"Confessions?" he replied. "Of a sort."

He looked down at the steps again. There was a moment of silence—a reverence and renewal of determination for his cause, when he remembered that there was another innocent he needed to see again. Ewan stepped up and slowly climbed the stairs to the church door, dwarfing the girl when he reached the top step.

"I need to speak to the Superior."

The girl bowed her head, curious eyes still on the tall man's face.

"Right this way, sir."

* * *

"Sister Daniella?"

An elderly woman with a dark complexion looked up from a stack of papers she'd been reviewing at her desk. The young acolyte and her tall charge stood at the door.

"What is it, Tania?"

"This man wished to speak with you," Tania gestured to Ewan, who tried to look unassuming. "He says it is very important."

Sister Daniella considered the acolyte for a couple of moments before turning her scrutinizing gaze on Ewan. The look was so similar to that of Kate's that he couldn't help but grin, even though his heart ached at the thought.

Daniella could sense no ill intent about the man Tania had brought to her, and so dismissed the girl, indicating that Ewan take a seat before her desk.

"What matters bring you to our…unique Order, sir?" Daniella finally asked.

Ewan wondered about the hesitation she used addressing her order, and then remembered some of what he had observed over the past eight decades. Over time, the belief in angels and demons seemed to join the ranks of unicorns and leprechauns with other such silly mythologies. Indeed, most of his kind had seemed to fade into the shadows, blending with the other mortals so as not to be detected in this new world, so focused on its technologies. He couldn't imagine a religious sect dealing with the paranormal having a very high standing in this day and age.

_This woman must be very interested to hear my reason for coming,_ Ewan concluded. _She must not get my kind in very often._

"The matters of which I have come to seek your council," Ewan said carefully. "Require your…unique expertise."

Daniella nodded after a moment's pause, showing her interest and giving Ewan leave to continue.

"Just last night, an innocent was captured by those unholy of origin."

Daniella set her pen down and folded her hands.

"I would much appreciate the assistance of whatever cavalry members you can spare in order to recover her."

Ewan knew about halfway through his request that something wasn't right. Daniella sighed and regretfully shook her head.

"The Order of Magdalene no longer has a cavalry," she told Ewan. "We were ordered by the Vatican to cease our military training in 1987. All that the Magdalene Order can offer you, sir, is our libraries, and the knowledge we have accumulated over our many years of establishment."

Ewan knew he looked crestfallen as she spoke—regret traced the worry lines of her face and made them deeper, darker. He took a moment to compose himself before bringing out the last card he had to play.

"Sister Daniella," he said. "What do you know of the Saint and her Sinner?"

"You mean Saint Rosette and her charge?"

_A saint?_ Ewan hadn't heard of this, and while finding out in this fashion shocked him a little, he needed only a moment to accept it—he couldn't think of a better title for the girl. But the fact that he hadn't know about it until now made him instantly regret his decision to forsake the church these seven years.

Realizing that Daniella was still waiting on his answer, he nodded.

"Only the tales told by our elderly," Daniella admitted. "That she was just a girl when she made a pact with one of the unfavorable, and that it robbed her of her life in the end."

That was an abbreviated version, and one Ewan disapproved of, but if she knew that much, there was only one more detail he needed this woman to know.

"And of Sis—I mean, Saint Rosette's brother?"

"Father Joshua?" Daniella asked, then laughed when Ewan nodded. "Why, sir, didn't you know? It was in his name that this very building was founded!"

Ewan started at that, casting a quick look about the room, as if looking for some hint of the boy he had known so long ago. How had he not heard of this?

_Shutting the world out for twenty years will do that,_ he reminded himself wryly.

"After his death, he left instructions that all proceeds from his novels go to the foundation of the Magdalene Order," Daniella explained. "This church is not the only one his books have paid for."

_Rosette would have loved that,_ Ewan thought as he recalled the subject matter for some of Joshua's novels—a trio of adventurers based subconsciously upon himself and the sister he couldn't remember, as well as her demon partner.

"If you know of Joshua," he said. "Can you recall the names of his guardians?"

"Of course," Daniella said. "There were many rumors of scandal surrounding Sister Katherine Valentine's renouncement, especially when she co-adopted Joshua with the renounced Father Ewan Remington soon afterwards."

Ewan nodded, wondering if there was an easier way to say what he wanted to say.

"What else do you know about Ewan Remington?"

"Not very much," Daniella admitted. "Only what is told in stories."

"And what is that?"

Daniella seemed a little perturbed by Ewan's insistence, but went on anyway.

"That Remington was a saint sent from heaven to guide young Joshua," she said. "Or that he was an angel."

"Fallen."

"Pardon me?"

"A fallen angel," Ewan said. "That is what he was."

Daniella frowned in confusion. "What makes you say so?"

"I am Ewan Remington."

* * *

It took a lot of work, but Ewan was finally able to convince Daniella of his identity, imparting information to her that had been kept secret by the Magdalene Order for decades. Most of it concerned those he was most closely associated with—Joshua, Rosette and Kate. By the end of it, there was no doubt left in Daniella's mind.

"I am sorry that we cannot aid you in your search, Father," she told him sadly. "But our investigative unit is overseas, and cannot be recalled for another three weeks. I am afraid that, in terms of manpower, that is all we have to offer."

Ewan hung his head. A fold of paper hanging out of his pocket caught his eye. He had one more chance.

"If you cannot help me with that," he said, taking the fold out of his pocket and putting it on the desk. "Perhaps you can help me identify this symbol?"

Daniella unfolded the paper and looked at the copy Ewan had made of the mark Aion had left at the apartment. She frowned.

"It looks like a crucifix," she said. "But what is this extra horizontal line?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"I cannot," Daniella said regretfully, handing the paper back. "But I might know someone who can."

As the two walked down the hallway at a conservative pace, Daniella took the opportunity to ask Ewan more about himself.

"Is it true that you and Sister Katherine adopted Father Joshua together?" she said. "As a…couple?"

"Yes," Ewan admitted readily. "We had both renounced our positions, and could do as we pleased."

"And did you…" Daniella seemed unsure about her question. "Did you two…?"

"Did we marry?" Ewan finished for her. She nodded, the hint of a blush on her dark cheeks.

"No," Ewan sighed. "We never did."

"Why not?"

Ewan's mind was suddenly whisked away to that night they had finally come to the decision to adopt Joshua. He had been the one to bring it up. Kate had been the one to sensibly point out that they couldn't.

There had been sad words exchanged, and angry words, and words that Ewan would never forget. Words he would never want to forget. Even if it meant living with memories that haunted him night and day for the rest of his life.

Seeing the distant sadness in his eyes, Daniella realized the reason. It was the same reason that he was standing before her now. She stopped by a door, and the two turned to face it. Daniella was about to lift her hand to knock, when she turned to Ewan.

"Do you…do you think about them?" she asked hesitantly. "Those you left behind?"

Ewan closed his eyes, seeing each of their faces behind his eyelids.

Rosette, Joshua, Chrno, Kate, and countless others he'd come to love in each of his accursed pasts.

"Every day," he said softly. "For all eternity."


	7. moribund

**AUTHOR'S (belated) NOTE**

_Hey, everyone!_

_I know, I know, it's been… how many years since I updated this story? I'm sorry, especially to you; my Remington fans. This was definitely the one fiction that I put the most effort into of all my stories on this account. And therein, unfortunately, lay my biggest problem._

_You see, I am a stickler for details. And as I was writing the story, I kept on adding and changing and tweaking the little details to make it better, but I ended up changing big details, and that changed the course of the story so much, that I got lost and couldn't continue._

_But, enough with my excuses! I've got good news for you!_

_A new version of 'The Cross of Lorraine' is soon to grace the stage! I've already gotten one chapter (tentatively) written out, with the anticipation of more to come! It'll be quite a bit less detailed than the last one, but I'm afraid that will be necessary for its continuation._

_So, sorry to all of you who grew used to—or even fond of—my lengthy paragraphs of inner dialogue and description, but I'm returning to the site with a mission in mind, and that is to finish this story! Which is something I can only do if I keep it simple._

_I won't be removing this version of the story from the site quite yet, though. Maybe not at all. But I'll be marking it differently, and renaming the new story with the title this one has now, 'The Cross of Lorraine'._

_I hope to see all of you there!_

_Love, Koru_


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